


you're the one thing i can't get enough of

by lostnoise



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Future, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bedroom Sex, Breastfeeding, Brotherly Steve Harrington & Dustin Henderson, Car Sex, Dustin makes an excellent uncle, Found Family, Love Confessions, M/M, Male Lactation, Max makes an excellent aunt, Minor Relationships, Misunderstandings, Mpreg, No graphic depictions of birth, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Post Mpreg, Protective Dustin Henderson, Protective Maxine "Max" Mayfield, Surprise pregnancy, Unplanned Pregnancy, blink-and-you-miss-it kinks, but there's a light at the end of the tunnel, romantic sex, the "i didn't know i was pregnant" au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:21:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 30,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23421613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostnoise/pseuds/lostnoise
Summary: It's been nine months since he had his one night with Billy Hargrove - nine months since that golden boy rolled back to the Golden Coast before Steve woke up the next morning - and Steve is trying to teach Dustin how to drive.Trying, because the stomach cramps from the night before are getting worse. Dustin drives him to the Emergency Room where he learns all the little things that have been happening to him actually make sense.He's pregnant.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove & Maxine "Max" Mayfield, Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington & Dustin Henderson
Comments: 69
Kudos: 593





	1. i've been losing sleep

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Phaesporia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phaesporia/gifts).



> I wrote this for my good friend [phaesporiamuse](https://phaesporiamuse.tumblr.com/). We were chatting one day while she was watching "I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant" and brought up how this _would_ be Steve's dumb ass. We got to talking about Steve _would_ be the one to write off every little change, and wouldn't know until he went into labor that he was going to have a baby.
> 
> To give some details around the mpreg in this universe: I left the ins-and-outs around the pregnancy and birth vague on purpose. BUT, essentially, some men are able to get pregnant - these men are called carriers. It is a recessive genetic trait that gets passed down through families. Children born after 1985 are automatically tested, but prior to that, testing was up to the parents. (Mother/father titles are used interchangeably. Also, gay relationships are disliked by some people but for the most part they are accepted, though gay marriage isn't legal yet.)
> 
> You can find the Spotify playlist for this fic [here](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0Y7piXVJhD9DV7yx3PXBc0?si=gdlJTo59SVWjIwsQuy3Beg); it contains all the title songs plus some more '80s songs that generally vibe with the story. The title of the whole fic comes from "(I've Had) The Time of My Life," and this chapter comes from "Papa Don't Preach" by Madonna.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!

Dustin’s freaking out in the driver’s seat of Steve’s BMW. All things considered, _Steve_ is freaking out, too. There they had been - minding their own business - Steve had been teaching Dustin how to drive down the backroads of Hawkins. Dustin had been doing well, too, had finally calmed down from the anxiety plaguing him over driving a ton of steel with Steve in the passenger seat. 

And then Steve got hit with debilitating cramps that make it hard to breathe and hard to think.

It’d started late last night with a slow wave of pressure that peaked every so often into pain that radiated from his lower back to his front. At first they didn’t last long, took hours between the cramps, so Steve thought nothing of it. Now the cramps are about a minute of intense pain and five minutes apart, they’ve timed it, and Dustin is freaking out and Steve is too, and they both hope it’s something stupid like appendicitis and not something serious like cancer, or, like, goddamn _organ failure_ or something.

“You should have gone to the hospital last night,” Dustin says for the fifteenth time that evening. But he doesn’t look over when Steve harrumphs - he just steps on the pedal harder. God, Steve just wants to be at the hospital already. “I can’t handle you dying on me. I don’t even know how to drive yet!”

“Like _I_ could handle dying, I’m only 19!” Steve bites back, shooting a glare over at Dustin. “And you haven’t crashed the car so I’d say you’re doing okay. Keep driving, doofus. I’m not dying.”

He doesn’t say it with confidence but he hopes it’s not something crazy from the Upside Down. He _really_ hopes he’s not _dying_. But if he shows any doubt, Dustin will react even worse, so Steve just grits his teeth, leans against the window, and takes a deep breath only to hold it in as the next long wave of intense pain rattles through his very bones, it seems. Seeing Dustin’s white-knuckled grip around the steering wheel out of the corner of his eye, Steve lets out a groan. Feels his eyes get wet, wonders how the fuck he got here.

“We should have called for an ambulance,” Dustin insists, fretting, and he reaches over to grip Steve’s hand where it’s curled into the fabric of his oversized jacket, awkwardly rubs at the back of it, and even that gesture calms Steve down a little. Makes his tight fist loosen ever so slightly.

He takes a moment to breathe in, shallowly, trying not to let the pain get to him too much. He’s dealt with worse. He’s killed monsters, watched people die, has been kidnapped and tortured and drugged. He can deal with some stomach cramps.

The pain eases up eventually; he can breathe again, inhales deeply and shakily, as Dustin continues speeding to the hospital. When they pull into the parking lot at the ER, Steve barks out instructions for parking and Dustin miraculously gets it right the first time, and then he helps Steve out of the car and continues to fuss as they make their way to the doors. Steve gets put on the waiting list to be seen, winces when he sits down and puts a hand on his belly.

Because he’s grown a belly. It’s _awful_.

With his schedule at Family Video, not playing basketball, and an increased appetite for the weirdest things, Steve has put on weight. A lot of weight. He’s _thicker_ now, embarrassingly enough, and he’s even cut out alcohol from his diet because he figured that might help - it would upset his stomach any time he drank, any way. But he thinks the damage must have been done to his metabolism long ago because his belly is stretched tight. He’s even softer in the chest, he nearly sees a doctor about it, but he has to work constantly to afford the rent on his apartment. 

He’s taken to wearing baggy shirts and oversized sweatshirts, things that are comfortable and hide how much weight he’s put on. Steve always thought he’d get the lucky genes, like his parents; they’re both tall and thin and good-looking, but he must have gotten some freak genes or something to have his body go downhill so fast. Like, Steve knows he peaked in high school - it’s embarrassing, but he’s accepted that - but this, on top of it, only feels like life wants to rub his nose in it, too.

After the third time a cramp comes and goes, lasts longer, comes quicker, a nurse comes up and starts asking about symptoms. The periodic cramps, heartburn, the nausea spell he’d gotten several months ago, fatigue, frequent urination, the weight gain… Steve is nervous when she shakes her head and sighs.

“Is he dying?!” Dustin asks from next to him, and the nurse just laughs.

“No, honey, he’s pregnant,” the nurse says to them, and Steve blinks once, twice, three times-

“I’m _what_?! I can’t be pregnant, I haven’t had-” But then Steve thinks about when the last time he’d had sex, and it was just a few days past nine months, wasn’t it? Fuck. “Oh, _fuck_.”

~

He’s soon whisked to the maternity ward, stripped down, put into one of those hospital gowns, and given a bed to lay in. They both lie and say Dustin is his brother to get him into the room, and Dustin sits looking just as confused as Steve feels. They share a look, silent, but everything is understood.

_’What the fuck do we do now?’_

Steve presses a hand to his stomach, the curve of it jutting up and out, and everything kind of clicks into place.

The nausea spell months ago. The weird food cravings. How tired he’s been the last few months. The way his stomach looks compared to the rest of him. The way his chest simply aches. Steve had written it off from the stress of being an adult, getting kicked out of his parents’ house, and having to live on his own.

Steve’s family doesn’t have any carriers in it, except for a distant cousin on his mother’s side. It’s so rare to be a carrier if your parents don’t have the gene, and their parents hadn’t had it either, so Steve’s parents hadn’t bothered getting him tested when he was born. Steve never thought to get himself tested either, just went with the flow and assumed the same as everyone else.

His mind veers to the last person he’d had sex with, the… the father of his baby. _Fuck._

That night had been a complete fluke. He tries not to think about it often, not unless he’s drunk or high, or feeling horny, or feeling miserable. It’s the best and worst memory all in one.

Billy has been long gone to California, left the morning after they’d hooked up, the day after Valentine’s Day at that. Left Steve by himself in his shitty little apartment with his shitty job in this shitty town - a golden boy returning to the Golden Coast. And now Steve is about to _give birth_ to _Billy’s baby_. What does he even do?

Does he… does he tell Billy? Should he get his number or address or something from Max? Would Billy believe that it’s his kid, would he think Steve’s lying about it? …Would he even want to be a part of their baby’s life?

Unbidden, Steve feels tears collecting in his eyes as he stares at his hand atop his stomach. He reaches up with his free hand to press over his eyes, trying to hide his overwhelming emotions from Dustin, but this kid is too observant to be duped.

“Steve, what’s wrong?” Dustin scoots his chair closer and reaches out to rub Steve’s arm. Steve says nothing and shakes his head because how does he give voice to the things he’s feeling? “Hey, man, talk to me. It’s not the end of the world.”

Steve just found out just over an hour ago that he will be a single parent in less than 24 hours. It feels very much like the end of the world to him. It’s the end of _his_ world, the end of everything he’s gotten to know on his own. And he’d just gotten into a good enough routine.

“Is it… the father?”

Steve’s breath hitches in his chest, breaks on a sob. He can’t speak, can barely breathe, because it’s so much to process all at once. He does his best to calm down but is hit with another cramp - correction: it’s a fucking _contraction_ \- and that takes up all his ability to think.

The pain eases up and his cheeks are wet but at least he can blame the contraction instead of his own emotions. “Can you… can you get a hold of Max? See if she has, um.” He sniffs and shrugs one of his shoulders with an affectation of indifference.

“I’ll see if she has a way to contact Billy,” Dustin nods, and his voice is soft and understanding and they’re not overly affectionate with one another but Steve knows they’d die for each other and Dustin really is his best friend. It’s not like Steve was all that subtle about his feelings for Billy; Steve can see it now, in retrospect, how gone over Billy he was. How thoroughly idiotic he’d acted, how on display he’d put his heart… It’s embarrassing, being left in the wreckage of the best night of his life. Maybe it was the months-long depression Steve went through after Billy left that clued Dustin in, but he’s never told anyone but Robin about that night with Billy, but Dustin is _observant_ , the little nerd, so he just knows. He knows Steve.

“I’m calling my mom and Robin too.”

Once Dustin has vacated the room, Steve feels everything else starting to weigh down on him. He’ll have to take time off from work to recover from giving birth, he’s going to have to beg Keith to keep his job, beg his landlord to extend his deadline to make his rent payment, he might even have to beg his parents for a bit of money from the trust they’d set up for him. He’ll have a _baby_ when this is all over. He’s going to have to buy diapers, clothes, a crib, formula, bottles… he’s going to have to find someone to watch the baby when he goes to work. 

Steve realizes that he’s going to struggle pretty much the rest of his life. And that he’s going to do it alone. It hits him all of a sudden like a punch to the gut and he starts crying again, silent, with tears running down his cheeks and a hand pressed to his mouth. He can’t handle this. He has to give the baby up for adoption, right? He can’t keep the baby.

But the more he thinks about it, with Dustin making phone calls down the hall, the more Steve can’t stand the idea of giving away this little life that’s been growing inside of him. He imagines himself as a dad and can’t help but smile through his tears. Imagines holding his baby for the first time, imagines watching them walk, hearing their first word - it all hits him, and it’s like the concept of losing this baby has fear flooding through him.

So, he can’t give the baby away. He’ll have to tough it out. He’s going to be a dad.

He hopes Dustin is willing to babysit sometimes. Maybe the other kids, too, if he can scrounge up any money. He doesn’t know how he’s going to do this on his own, but he’s going to have to. Billy’s in California, he and his parents don’t speak except when Steve’s in dire straits. It’s just Steve and his baby, now.

~

Dustin comes back not too long after he left with a slip of paper and a small smile on his face. “Robin’s on her way over. She had some creative things to say. Really pissed that she didn’t figure it out sooner. She said she’s been wondering about your belly for months now.” He slumps into the chair. “Mom’s coming too. She wanted to know if your water broke yet but I told her no. I think we’d remember if you seemed to have pissed yourself or something.”

Steve groans on the bed, pressing his head back against his pillow.

It’s going to be a hassle to have two more people in the room with him, but at the same time, he’s kind of… looking forward to the support. His own parents are out of the country - George and Kathleen Harrington are almost always abroad, and this month it’s Italy. Next month will probably be Japan. Steve hasn’t seen them in nearly a year, not since they kicked him out of the house.

So, maybe having Mrs. Henderson around wouldn’t be so bad. She’s a nurse herself, and she treats Steve like he’s actually Dustin’s brother. Like he’s her son. It’s a heady feeling that he’s craving especially right now.

His hand goes to his stomach and he swallows. “And… Max?”

“She… has his address,” Dustin says slowly. Obviously he’d had to finagle that from Max somehow. Steve knows Dustin isn’t good at lying, no matter how much he says he is; things slip out. “I had to give her _something_ to go on.”

“What did you tell her?” Steve asks, voice deadpanned. Pinches the bridge of his nose to collect himself.

“I told her you had something of his,” Dustin says, looking smug because he’d found a way around his inability to lie, “and that you wanted to see if he wanted it back. So, like, not _really_ a lie, you know.”

Steve lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “You did good, kid,” he says, reaching out to ruffle his fingers through Dustin’s curls. He loves this little nerd.

Dustin smiles, but then it droops in such a small manner that Steve knows there’s a catch. “Well, you know what time of the year it is. So, with Christmas next month-”

But, before Dustin can finish his thought, Steve’s water breaks. He hisses at the unfamiliar sensation, almost but not quite like he’s wetting himself, and when Dustin asks what’s wrong, Steve peels back the blanket and groans.

Dustin goes into a frenzy and pulls two nurses into the room. It’s a little chaotic because Steve’s “dilating” really quickly, which is something he has never heard and has no idea what it means. Dustin keeps demanding to know if every little thing they mention is a good thing or a bad thing, and Steve can tell the nurses are about five seconds away from forcing Dustin out of the room, and he doesn’t blame them. Not at all.

_But._

Robin and Mrs. Henderson are still on their way, easily twenty minutes away, and Steve doesn’t want to do this alone. Even more, he can’t imagine going through this without Dustin. The kid’s been by his side for the last two years, has stuck by him through thick and thin, and this is one more adventure for them, right?

“Dustin, shut your mouth and get over here,” Steve snaps, gritting his teeth as another contraction comes, stronger than the last, and he groans. Grips Dustin’s hand tightly when he comes over to Steve’s side until it passes.

Once the nurses have finished checking him over, one nurse leaves to get the doctor - apparently the baby is coming, and coming soon - and the nurse who remains attempts to teach Steve some breathing exercises, like some sort of crash course in how to breathe when you give birth. She also tells Steve that they can’t give him any pain killers, can’t give him an epidural, because the baby is coming _fast_ , and Steve tries to use the breathing exercises she just told him about, exaggerating them in his sudden panic because…

Because he’s about to have a baby.

“It’s okay, buddy, it’s going to be okay,” Dustin says, squeezing his hand reassuringly, and Steve desperately wants to believe him. 

The doctor walks in. Then there’s more pain as his contractions hit so quickly, coming already, and Steve whimpers from it, tearing up and sobbing. He can’t curse anything or anyone in that moment like they always show labor in the movies; he can only barely withstand the pain radiating through his back and his stomach. He starts breathing like how the nurse taught him, and all of a sudden, he gets the urge to push, gasps out when he does so and 

“This baby sure wants out,” the doctor comments, and the nurses brace Steve’s legs up as he situates himself between them. “All right, now whenever you feel the urge to do that, to push, _do it_. When you feel a contraction coming, breathe and push into it. You’re going to be just fine, son.”

Thirty minutes after Dustin made his phone calls, Steve is holding his daughter against his chest and looks so incredibly awed when Robin and Mrs. Henderson walk in together. Dustin is asleep, completely out in the chair next to Steve’s bed, doesn’t stir when Claudia comes over to press a soft kiss to his temple.

“You make a real cute baby,” Robin says as she comes over to his side and brushes his hair out of his face with a gentle hand. As much as Robin liked to nag and give him shit, Steve is really lucky to have a friend like her and she shows it in times like these. She sits at the side of his bed and looks over him.

He knows he’s all sweaty and a little doped out from the slight pain meds they gave him to take away the lingering pain now that he’s not at any risk for bleeding. He knows he looks a mess. But he feels so good, so strong, for bringing another life into the world. “Yeah, she’s beautiful.”

“You think of a name yet?” Robin asks, looking down at Abby where Steve is feeding her.

“Mm,” Steve hums with his brand new daughter cradled against his chest, unable to look away from her tiny face. She’s just so perfect. He can’t believe he helped make this beautiful little girl. Steve totally understands why people call kids _bundles of joy_. He can’t imagine anything making him this happy. “I think so.”

“Care to share with the class, dingus?”

“Abigail,” he says as he feeds her oh-so-carefully. She’s red and wrinkly and looks more alien than human, but she’s his baby. He can’t believe he had a baby. “Abigail Sylvia Harrington.”


	2. just another heart in need of rescue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tuesday means another chapter!
> 
> the title of this chapter is taken from the song "here i go again" by whitesnake. seemed very on brand for billy in this fic. once again, [here](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0Y7piXVJhD9DV7yx3PXBc0?si=BYUz4xTPTM2g91JJENBZqQ) is the spotify playlist where you can listen to all the songs that inspired this story and the titles within it.

Some days, Billy wakes up from a dream featuring none other than Steve Harrington, former king of Hawkins High. It’s usually some composite of his fantasies with situations and scenarios that he did in fact experience, all lumped together into this mess of false memory. They went camping in the fall before Billy left, but never sat up all night making out and looking at the stars. They’d gone bowling, but Steve and he hadn’t hung all over each other to make each other miss their shots, giggling each time. They’d hooked up, but Billy never admitted the extent of his feelings.

No, he never did that.

Instead, Billy took advantage of the day being what it was, took advantage of their close relationship, took advantage of the feelings Steve tried to but couldn’t hide from him.

Billy thinks about Steve more often than he’d ever admit to. Something inevitably pops up in Billy’s life that reminds him of Steve - a song on the radio, the way someone pushes their hair away from their face, a brand of soda that Steve liked. He’s haunted almost every day with the ghost of the boy he loved once. Maybe still loves him. ...Definitely still loves Steve, if the way his heart aches when he wakes up without that pretty boy next to him is any indication.

Today, Billy wakes up from a dream so real he swears it happened, but he and Steve never went to a lake and sat by the water. Never laughed and knocked shoulders and elbows, never felt so warm with every inch of their skin connecting in the sunlight. Everything in that dream was white-washed and soft, fuzzy, fucking _beautiful_. He can still see the way Steve’s eyes sparkled from the light reflecting off the water.

Billy sits up and rubs a hand over his face, trying to push away both sleep and the dream.

But the false memories linger all morning while he gets himself ready to head to work. Dawn hasn’t even broken the line of the horizon when Billy leaves his apartment and locks the door behind him. He keeps seeing the pink curve of Steve’s mouth, the hint of tongue and the sheen it left behind on Steve’s lower lip. Billy remembers vividly what it feels like to bite softly into that plushness, knows the give of it between his teeth, the hint of salt on Steve’s skin. Knows the noises Steve makes when Billy bites him in other places.

He can’t shake the memories or the dream by the time he makes it to the surf shop for his weekend job and raps his knuckles on the door. During the week, he works at a garage as a mechanic; he spends all day under the hood or under a suspended vehicle, restores engines and replaces carburetors and serpentine belts and brakes.

The owner of the surf shop, an old hippie named Bob, lets him inside to get the register set up for the day. Bob’s shit with money but he does okay when Billy has lessons.

“You have lessons at 8 and 10, man,” Bob calls out to him, walking into the back where he’s resurfacing a surfboard. “Probably your last ones for the season. Some rugrats who think because they have some money to blow they can become pro surfers. Man, how _wild_ is that?”

Billy laughs. Bob doesn’t like most kids. Billy was lucky that Bob took a liking to him.

“It’s _far out_ , man,” Billy replies, get Bob going on some rant.

It’s nice, this life he’s built for himself. It’s easy, and comfortable, and normal. He feels _free_.

~

The shop is busy all day, which takes Billy’s mind off of Steve. He doesn’t think about the dream or Steve again until he gets home and grabs his mail. He walks up to his door, looking through the bills and junk mail, when an unfamiliar envelope pops up with a return address in Hawkins, Indiana. Postmarked from the Hawkins Post Office, too. He thinks it must be something from Max or Susan, tosses the rest of the mail onto the little table in the kitchen. He’ll get to the bills when he gets paid, has a fucking _checkbook_ and everything because Susan and Max stayed with him for a week the month after he left, over Max’s spring break, to get him settled.

Billy grabs a beer, cracks it open, eases himself carefully down onto the couch with surf-sore muscles, and tears at the flap of the envelope to pull out a letter.

_Billy,_

_I know I’m probably the last person from Hawkins you ever wanted to hear from again but I’m just hoping you haven’t forgotten about me yet, otherwise this letter is going to be even weirder than it already is.  
I would’ve called but the only thing Max would give me is your address. She’s real protective of you, you know? It’s cute. Makes me wonder if things would’ve gone any differently for me had someone been looking out for me the way she looks out for you.  
But I didn’t write you to talk about that.   
I actually wrote you because something happened two days ago that I thought you should know about…  
 ~~We~~ I had a baby.   
Before you ask, ~~I haven’t even, I haven’t since~~ she’s definitely yours. I don’t know if you’ll believe me or if you think I’m lying or I want money or **whatever.** I don’t know if you’ll want anything to do with her, but you deserve to know either way. I would never forgive myself if I didn’t tell you.  
You can pretend I never sent this letter and you’ll never have to be a part of her life. You don’t have to, but you can be — if you want to, that is. I would never keep her from you, Billy.   
I mean that.   
But if you don’t want to meet her, I understand. You deserve a choice in this, too. _

_I hope California helps you find whatever it is you’re searching for,  
-Steve _

_P.S. I included a photo of her. Her name is Abigail… Abigail Sylvia._

Shaky fingers pull a Polaroid out of the envelope and he sees her for the first time. She’s a wrinkled little thing, bright pink, eyes closed, bald and swaddled in a blue baby blanket.

So this is _Abigail Sylvia_. His daughter.

Sylvia was his mother’s name. Billy remembers the night he told Steve about his mom… it was late August, over a year ago now, and they’d been out at the quarry. They always spent time together at the quarry - it was the one place Billy could run away to, the one place they could be alone. Especially parked down by the tree line, under the canopy of leaves stretched out like a ceiling, sheltered and safe in the shadows of their own little world.

The last time he’d been with Steve, the last night he saw him… was just over nine months ago. He checks the date on the letter, and curses softly. Steve sent the letter two weeks ago. He believes Steve’s words, would have believed it without any other proof because of the kind of person Steve is. Heart on his sleeve, devoted, adoring. Smitten. Billy had lapped it up, and he knows he spat it back out, too.

Fuck. _Fuck_! He has a child with the one guy, the only person he’s ever really loved. He has a daughter named after his mother.

Billy checks the time; it’s just past five, which means it’s just past eight in Indiana. He immediately dials the number for Susan’s house and waits as the phone rings. He’s chewing on his nails, hates dialing out of state, should probably go across the street to the pay phone because this is going to run up the phone bill but… but he’s not thinking about cost. He just needs answers.

Max answers, thankfully, because he doesn’t want to snap at Susan. Max knows that when he snaps at her he doesn’t really mean anything by it. She hadn’t been touched by Neil, hadn’t been subjected to open hands nor fists nor boots to the stomach, screaming and fear-mongering, the way he and Susan had.

“When were you going to tell me that Harrington had a baby?” Billy asks instead of responding to the pleasant greeting Maxine gives on the phone.

“Billy? Wait, how-”

“I had to learn from a letter that Steve had a fucking baby! How could you keep that from me?!”

“Why would you… did _Steve_ write to you about Abby?”

“He said… he said I had a choice, on whether to be in her life or not,” Billy says, and he’s not yelling anymore, voice softer as he thinks about the letter. Processes it. “That I could be in her life.”

“But why would he-”

“He doesn’t want to keep my daughter from me,” Billy cuts her off. He’s so _pissed_ , at everyone and everything. “I thought you wouldn’t want to either, but I had to find out about her from a letter. Why didn’t you give him my number? Why didn’t you tell me I have a daughter?”

“Billy, listen, I didn’t _know_ she-”

“Maxine, I need one thing and one thing only from you right now,” Billy seethes, pinching the bridge of his nose, “and that is Steve’s number.”

“You know he’s not even-”

“The number, Maxine! Give it to me.”

“Billy, you’re not listening to a thing I’m-”

“Because I only need his number, I don’t need a running commentary about it. I have a right to see my daughter.”

She huffs on the other end of the phone, sounds bitchier than normal when she tells him, “Let me get it.”

Billy hears her put the phone down, the hard click of it on the counter; zones out looking at the Polaroid. His finger traces the line of Abby’s tiny, scrunched up face. Imagines the warmth of her little body, the barely-there weight of her in his arms. Clenches his jaw against the fact that he didn’t know, that he hasn’t known for all this time. That he missed Steve’s entire pregnancy, even. Apparently, without even knowing it, Steve had too.

He comes back from the thoughts plaguing his mind when he hears Max mumbling under her breath and he presses the photograph to his chest, careful with it, almost like Max would otherwise be able to see him being so soft and tender in that moment.

“You got a pen?”

Billy fumbles for one on his nightstand and grabs the envelope that the letter came in to write down the number when Maxine starts listing it off. “Thanks, shitbird. Guess you already heard from Steve but congrats on being an aunt, Maxine.”

Then Billy hangs up on her. He has bigger fish to fry.

He dials the number he’d been given, waiting as patiently as possible as it rings. When it finally picks up, a voice that is definitely not Steve’s answers.

“Henderson residence, Claudia speaking,” comes the warm greeting from the other end. Billy feels struck dumb for a moment. “...Hello?”

“Hi,” he answers, nervous but not wanting to lose what little courage he has by having her hang up on him. “I’m, um. Looking for Steve. Steve Harrington?”

“Oh, you must be one of his friends,” the woman says, starts to babble on about how Billy must be calling to check up on Steve, rambles about how great it’s been to have Steve in the house. How exciting it is to have a baby around again. The more she talks, the more anxious Billy gets. “And Steve is such a good mother, you wouldn’t even believe-”

“Um, listen… could I speak to him?” Billy says awkwardly. Usually he’s so good with moms, but he’s also usually in front of them, distracting them with his smile and his hair and batting his long eyelashes at them like the perfect mix of innocent and naughty. He’s nervous, anxious, just wants to… to speak with Steve again.

“Yes, yes, so sorry, just wait one moment, dear,” Claudia says.

It clicks the moment before Steve picks up the phone that he’s gone to live with the _Hendersons_ , which means he’s living with that little nerd that always followed Steve around.

“Hello?”

Billy’s breath catches when he hears Steve’s voice for the first time in months. Literal months. It’s weird to think about that… that the last time they’d seen each other was Valentine’s Day. The last time Billy had seen Steve was, technically, the morning after when he snuck out of Steve’s house, went home, and packed all his things before he jetted off for California with barely anything to his name but his determination and perseverance.

“Steve,” he says, and he sounds breathless. Soft. He glances down at the Polaroid again. “It’s… it’s Billy.”

There’s a moment of silence on the other end of the line. Billy would be afraid that Steve hung up but he can hear the background noise of a television laugh track and plates clattering from the kitchen. “Hey- uh, hey, Billy. Did you… er, I guess you got my letter?”

“Yes,” he answers, staring once more at the photograph of his daughter. _Their_ daughter. The only photograph of little Abigail he has. “Yeah, I… I got your letter, Steve.” He pauses for a moment to gather his thoughts. It’s like Billy knew exactly what he would say to Steve before he called, and now all of his words have fled his brain. He takes a deep breath. “It’s- is she… Did you mean it? When you said… when you said I could be in her life?”

“Billy,” Steve says, sighs gently, and Billy can picture him like Steve’s standing in front of him instead of being hundreds of miles away in Bumfuck, Indiana. They used to spend so much time together. He can hear the way Steve has his hands on his hips, can practically taste that little smirk he’s trying to keep from curling his lips at the corners. “Of course I meant it. I _still_ mean it. It’s your choice. You can be in her life, or not. You just don’t get to do both. You’re either in or you’re out.”

Billy licks his lips, thinks about everything. About his job at the surf shop, how he’s doing well for himself. He could send Steve money, honestly, to help him out with the baby. _Abigail_.

“I want to be in her life,” he admits to Steve. Looks out the window at the street and watches people driving, walking, none of them knowing Billy nor his problems. “I’m not- I _won’t_ be a deadbeat dad.”

“I know you won’t,” Steve tells him, and Billy wishes Steve could be right here with him. Billy wants to wrap his arms around him, wants to kiss that smile he hears in the warmth of Steve’s words. “You’d never be a deadbeat dad.” There’s a pause, a small moment of silence, and it’s not even awkward the way Billy feared their conversation would inevitably be. “Do you want to talk to Abby? She’s awake.”

Even if she won’t know what he’s saying because she’s an infant, Billy feels a thrill flutter through him at the very idea of speaking to his daughter for the first time. “Yeah, yes. Yes, I do.”

He can hear the smile in Steve’s voice again when he says, “Here she is.”

Billy is silent for a moment as he hears the noise of a baby fussing and settling to Steve’s soft hushing on the other end of the phone. It makes his heart melt.

“Hey, Abby.” His voice is soft, gentle in a way he rarely ever is. “This is your daddy. I know I haven’t been out to meet you yet, but I will. I promise I’ll come meet you.” Billy licks his lips and wishes he could be in Indiana right now, a thought that hasn’t exactly crossed his mind in months. (Not _exactly_ , because he’s more wished that _Steve_ could be in California with him. “I’m going to be the best daddy I can be for you, sweetheart. I’m not going to be perfect, but I hope you’ll still love me anyway.”

He hears more fussing, and whimpers and cries starting up. He’s never spent much time around babies, hasn’t been given the opportunity nor did he ever particularly _want_ to be around them, but more than anything, in that single moment, Billy wants to be able to hold his daughter and calm her down. He wants to help Steve with her, wants to hush her himself and rock her in his arms. The longing hits him deep in his chest, right below his sternum, spreads through him. Makes his heart _ache_ , like his chest is too tight, too small, his heart too big from all the newfound love causing it to swell.

“Hey, sorry, I need to feed her,” Steve says, coming back onto the phone. “She gets really fussy if she doesn’t eat right away. Gets so hungry, and she’s got such an appetite.”

“Sounds like me,” Billy says, smiling and ducking his head. He looks at the photograph again. He wants to see her. Wants to _know_ her, like Steve does - all the little tells, the little quirks she has and will continue to develop. Billy never thought he’d ever _want_ to be a dad, much less become one, and yet here he is: a dad anyway, and longing to _be there_ for her in the way his parents never were.

Steve chuckles softly in response to Billy’s comment, and Billy can almost see all the times they’d spent together where Billy got grumpy over being hungry. There’s no doubt Steve is reminiscing in the same way. Billy can’t help how his own smile stretches wider in response. God, he misses Steve. Hates Hawkins and always will, but his one greatest regret is probably always going to be leaving Steve behind.

“Hey,” Steve calls out, knocking Billy out of his memories. “Thanks. For- you know, for calling tonight. I just… hope you know that I meant it. When I said I wouldn’t keep her from you.”

“Can I call again tomorrow?” Billy knows he sounds like he’s begging, and he thinks he would if it came to that.

“Billy, of course you can.” Steve sounds a little sad. Billy wishes he could stop doing that to Steve - upsetting him. Disappointing him. “I’m sure Abby would like to hear from her daddy.”

His heart stutters. Hearing someone else vocalize that he’s Abby’s father is so jarring that he can’t help the way his hold on the phone tightens. “I’ll call. I want to- I need to be a part of her life, Steve.”

“I know, Billy. You can, y’know, meet her whenever you want. You’ll be such a big part of her life. I just know it. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“We’ll hear from you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” Billy promises. He doesn’t make them in vain anymore. “Give Abby a kiss for me, yeah? Goodnight, Steve.”

“I will. Goodnight.”

Billy hangs up. Takes a deep breath. Then he dials the number for Susan’s house and feels all the fire that had been in him earlier burning out to nothing, not even an ember. He apologizes to Max for being so short with her earlier, hears her laughing as she tells him that Steve hasn’t told a goddamn _soul_ who Abby’s father is, and Billy just confessed it to her thinking she’d kept it from him. She’s nearly in tears by the time she finishes chiding him for not letting her speak, and he’s properly chastised and embarrassed by his overreaction. Billy keeps apologizing, irritated and huffing and red-cheeked, and Max just laughs harder.

“God, you’re such a _dick_ sometimes,” Max giggles.

“I know. I’m… I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Her giggles die down. “So you called Steve? Does that mean you’ll come home for Christmas?”

“Home?” Billy laughs, shaking his head. “It means I’ll come stay in Hawkins with you and Susan for Christmas. Home’s still California.”

“Whatever, same difference, dickhead. Abby’s really cute, I can’t wait for you to meet her.” She pops her bubble gum and Billy hates that noise, but he has to agree - he can’t wait to meet Abby either. “I’m gonna be a fucking awesome aunt, and it’s all your fault I haven’t been able to perform my duties properly!” Billy can practically see her sticking her tongue out at him. It makes him miss her so much. “And anyway, you’ll make a good dad. Oh- shit, mom’s yelling for me. Call me when you have details, okay? Love you, Bills. Bye.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please let me know what you thought of the chapter, good or bad! comments and kudos are so very appreciated!


	3. to touch your lips and hold you tight

Billy asked to pick up Steve so they could drive out to the quarry together on the evening of Valentine’s Day. Steve thought Billy would have better plans, other plans than to hang out with _Steve_ on _Valentine’s Day_ and smoke a cigarette or two together the way they usually did when they met up at the quarry. They would hide together in the shadows, cars off, laying on the hood of whichever car they took and would shoot the shit about everything and nothing.

It didn’t take them long to pull up to the quarry, park in their usual spot tucked just within the treeline. It was a private spot all their own. Steve reached for the door handle, ready to slip out and light up a cigarette as always, but Billy didn’t move. When Steve glanced over, Billy sat there gazing over at him with half-lidded eyes.

“What’s wrong?” Steve asked, voice soft and nearly a whisper in the quiet night all around them. Like he didn’t want to disturb anything.

“I’m- I-” Billy whispered back. His voice cracked on his reply, like the very thought of voicing his thoughts proved to be a struggle. He reached over to cup Steve’s cheek. It was like Billy couldn’t even get the words out. “Steve, I… please…I need...”

Steve’s heart thudded heavily in his chest, slowing down and beating hard all at once, and his breath caught gently. “Billy…”

He didn’t know who moved first, but soon enough their lips were pressed together in the softest kiss. It was sweet, and hesitant - a first kiss if there ever was one - before Billy started to move their mouths together. This had been building all winter as they spent more and more time together, shivering as they smoked cigarettes in the cold and huddled together for _warmth_. It was Valentine’s Day. Billy’s words were a… a confession of sorts, weren’t they? And Steve… Steve knew that he wasn’t exactly subtle about how he felt about Billy, knew that he wore his heart on his sleeve, so Billy needing him… it had to mean something. It _had_ to.

Steve curled his fingers in the front of Billy’s shirt, tugged him closer, and the kiss deepened suddenly as their tongues met in a slick, intoxicating dance. Billy pushed forward, Steve sank back as far as he could go, and Billy reached over to the seat handle so that they could both recline Steve’s seat. Billy licked his own lips in the scant space between their mouths, nipped softly at Steve’s lower lip, then pressed in close, shifting until he was pressed between Steve’s legs. Fingers danced down to the waistline of his jeans, pressing teasingly against the skin just beneath his boxers.

“Billy,” he panted, arched his hips up against the other teen’s body and reveled in its warmth. “Billy, please…”

“I got you, pretty boy,” Billy murmured, kissing down the side of Steve’s neck. His hand pressed between their bodies and palming Steve through his jeans. “I’ll take care of you for tonight.”

Steve took a deep breath, trying to keep from getting too light-headed with how his blood rushed south. Billy’s touch was enough to get him all out of sorts, to have him lose his bearings. “Fuck,” he gasped, tugging at Billy’s curls and indulging in the moan let loose from Billy’s mouth.

Rocking his hips into the sensation, the pressure and warmth, Steve groaned when Billy’s fingers pulled at his fly and tugged him free of his jeans. His dick was wet at the tip already. He wanted to feel Billy’s fingers, his hand, curling around him, wanted Billy to get him off. Before Steve could beg, though, Billy leaned over and licked a stripe up the underside of Steve’s dick, ended it with this little twist of his tongue that made Steve jump at the slick sensation.

Billy wrapped his lips around the head of Steve’s dick and he knocked his head back against the seat beneath him. Steve reached down to thread his fingers in Billy’s golden hair, tugged _just so_ to make Billy moan again. This time, with Billy’s mouth around him, Steve gasped and tried not to thrust his hips up - he didn’t want to choke Billy, and he knew that his dick was sort of… a lot. But it wasn’t like Steve had a lot of choice when Billy was sucking his fucking _brains_ out. 

“Billy!” He groaned, eyes shutting tightly and head pressing back into the seat at the dual sensation when Billy pressed a finger against Steve’s entrance. His hips moved of their own volition, and Steve immediately apologized only to gasp again when Billy pinned his hips to the seat and sucked him down his throat. “Oh fuck, Billy, fuck yes…”

Billy pulled back with a wet slurping noise that had Steve whimpering. Steve looked down and felt absolutely entranced by the sight of Billy’s mouth, red and wet and panting, the back of Billy’s hand wiping the spit and precum from his lips. Billy pressed a kiss to his hip. “Can I fuck you, Stevie?”

It was the first time Billy called him that. Most of the time, Billy used girly nicknames to refer to him - Bambi, Pretty Boy, _Princess_ \- but other times, he was Harrington or Steve. Billy calling him “Stevie” really did something special to him, made Steve melt.

“Yeah,” Steve breathed out, cradling the back of Billy’s head with the flat of his palm. The touch was gentle. Careful. Reverent. “Yeah, you can.”

Billy kissed back up Steve’s body, and Steve didn’t avoid the kiss pressed to his mouth when Billy levelled one there, because Steve spent months pining after Billy as the other teen recovered from a nearly destroyed body after the Mind Flayer. Steve watched as Billy’s scars turned a silvery-white against his natural tan; they cut through his freckles and the lines of his muscles. Steve had this on his mind for months. Why would he turn down anything he could get?

They shed the necessary clothes - Steve took off his shoes and pants and boxers, let Billy ruck his shirt up to expose the pale skin of his torso; Billy pushed his jeans and boxers down, belt buckle left splayed open. Reaching into his center console, Billy grabbed a tube of lube and distracted Steve with a kiss. He pressed his body into Steve’s, dicks sliding together and Steve could barely see in the shadows but still looked down. The sight of their dicks slotted next to each other stole his breath right from his chest, the image cemented in his mind.

Billy grabbed one of Steve’s long legs and hiked it over his forearm, letting it rest in the crook of his elbow as he continued to kiss Steve. And Steve just went with the flow, definitely did not jump when Billy found the time somehow to lube up his fingers and press one solidly inside him. The touch had Steve tense up, but Billy calmed him with soothing words mumbled under his breath and a distracting tongue sliding over the shell of his ear.

Steve hadn’t ever been touched there before Billy. Didn’t know if Billy had done this before. Didn’t care either way when Billy started breathing into his mouth and crooking his finger in a way that made Steve’s dick kick. “ _Fuck._ ”

“That’s your special spot, pretty boy,” Billy said smugly, lips brushing over Steve’s jaw when he pressed it again and Steve made a pathetic noise in response. Scrabbled at Billy’s back and shoulders, fingernails digging in and pulling Billy even closer. “You like that?”

“Yesss,” Steve hissed. His head arched back, throat exposed in a tight line, and he outright whimpered when Billy started nipping at the skin and slid another finger inside of him. It was a tighter fit, an ache from the stretch of two fingers, slick as they were. “F-fuck, fuck, it’s… it’s so…”

“I told you, I got you,” Billy whispered against Steve’s neck, a soft kiss pressed there in a way that bloomed a warmth through Steve’s stomach and up his chest to curl in and around his heart. “I got you, Stevie.”

Billy moved back down his body and tongued at the head of Steve’s dick as he opened him up with slick fingers. When Steve looked down at the other teen, he knew the sight of Billy’s tongue curled around the tip of his dick would be imprinted in his memories for the rest of his life. It didn’t take much longer before Billy’s fingers, three at that point, were slipping back out of Steve and palming over Billy’s dick, slicking it up with a lubed fist.

“You ready, baby?” Billy asked and ducked down when Steve pulled him by his hair into a deep, slick, spine-melting kiss.

Steve reached down, touched the head with tentative fingers since he hadn’t done much more than clutch at Billy dumbly the entire time. Curled his fingers around Billy’s length, and Billy rocked his hips into Steve’s touch as the other boy stroked him.

Billy was panting, and forced out in a frustrated sort of voice, “ _Fuck_ , Stevie, please tell me you’re ready.”

“Do it,” Steve said, swallowing thickly. Took a deep breath and let it out to relax, tried not to let the head of Billy’s cock pressing up against his entrance make him tense up. So Steve took another deep breath and let it out when Billy started to press inside with the first slow, steady pressure.

Steve grunted as Billy’s hips stuttered into his own, the sudden intrusion a little faster than he’d been expecting. His hands grabbed at Billy’s waist, his eyes closed tightly, and then he looked up at Billy. Steve knew his eyes were probably so wide, so trusting, and Steve would feel shameful for it if not for the way Billy stared right back down at him. Gazed at Steve, really, but Steve wondered if he was simply projecting the affection he saw in Billy’s eyes.

Billy stayed still for a long moment, letting Steve adjust, and when Steve finally nodded, started to move. It didn’t feel amazing for a few long moments, with Billy finding a rhythm and the right angle, but once those two were found, he pushed inside and Steve let out a low moan in approval.

“Fuck,” Billy groaned, pushing inside and punching out that same moan from Steve.

And Steve? Steve felt dizzy from the pleasure, from the way all his blood fled his brain. His eyes darted up to see Billy twist his tongue against his lower lip in that familiar way that made Steve's stomach tighten with want. He’d been thinking about that tongue for so long, and now he knew what it felt like in his mouth, along his neck, on his _dick_. Said dick kicked against his stomach at how hot the thought was. Steve reached down to start stroking himself, and arched his back a little to make sure the angle was just right.

“Yeah, that’s it, Stevie...”

Steve wasn’t sure when he’d ever felt so sexy, so wanted and desired as he did in that moment with Billy whispering filth into his ear and bracing one hand on the top of the seat next to Steve’s neck, fingers brushing the skin there softly. The other hand held Steve’s leg in place so Billy could go a little harder. That singular action pushed all the breath from his lungs.

He was sweaty beneath what clothes he kept on, shirt sticking to his skin, and he squirmed back against Billy’s dick to race towards that edge that seemed so close. Let his eyes flutter shut to focus on that feeling building low in his gut. All the sensations, from the feel of Billy inside him to the sight of Billy on top of him to the scent of sex swelling and thickening the damp air of the car, caused Steve’s head to spin. He was so fucking _close_.

“So fucking hot, fuck, yes,” Billy moaned into his neck, licking and sucking up one side until he found the spot just beneath his ear that made Steve turn into fucking putty. “Mm, so tight and hot for me, all for me, aren’t you, baby?”

“Yes, yes,” Steve responded, panting, whining with his desperation. He couldn’t help the way he tightened around the hot length inside of him as he got closer. Almost as if reading Steve’s mind, Billy started to go faster, just a _little_ harder, forcing these tiny mewling noises from Steve’s throat. “Please, oh f-fuck, Billy, _please_.”

“C’mon, baby, I got you,” Billy reminded him, leaning down to kiss at the edge of Steve’s jaw. Readjusted his grip to “Cum for me. Please, wanna make you… wanna see you, Stevie, please.”

It took only a few more fast, deep thrusts for Steve to cum, milky white spattering over his chest, and Billy only lasted a few seconds more, groaning out as Steve tightened around him. He spilled into Steve, making Steve shiver with the knowledge - Billy, marking him like that, deep inside him. Having him in a way he’s never been had before.

“Fuck, Stevie, you did so good for me, didn’t you?” Billy pushed Steve’s sweaty hair out from his face, took a moment just to look at him, then leaned down to kiss the curve of his cheekbone. “So _good_ , baby.”

Steve didn’t know how to reply to such praise but for the blood rising high in his cheeks. “You were too,” said Steve, reaching up to tuck a curl behind Billy’s ear. “Took care of me, just like you said you would.”

Billy kissed him once more, deep and slick, and if Steve hadn’t just cum he’d be twitching to go again. But, he needed a couple minutes to make his brain resolidify since the good sex turned it to absolute mush.

Pushing off and moving back over into the driver’s side to pull his pants back up and situate himself, Billy buttoned his shirt halfway and let his leather jacket fall open temptingly. Steve tried to do the same, pulled at his boxers and jeans until they were kind of in place, pulled down his shirt and sweatshirt. He feels naughty, dirtied up under his clothes, but so turned on, too.

They made small talk as Billy drove Steve back to Steve’s apartment, walked him inside, before they fell into bed together again. This time it was slow and intimate with Steve on his stomach and a pillow shoved under his hips, Billy crowded all up behind him, pressing him into the bed. Steve was overwhelmed by the feel of Billy’s warm, sweat-slickened body against his own. Naked and vulnerable, both of them, as they shared awkward-angled kisses, exchanged little endearments as they drew closer and closer to the edge. Billy came first this time, mouth pressing wet kisses to the nape of Steve’s neck, groaning out a heated _”Fuck, Stevie…”_ When Steve came with Billy’s hand just palming his dick, Steve cried out Billy’s name and reached up to grip Billy’s hair. Tugged at it _just so_ , smiled when Billy moaned loudly, and filed that knowledge away.

“That was… wow,” Steve breathed out. Billy rose from the bed and went to Steve’s attached bathroom to grab a washcloth and wet it. When Billy came over to wipe him down, Steve practically purred under the attention. It was nice. “Spoil me like this and I could get used to it.”

Billy said nothing, just leaned in to kiss Steve again, longer and more passionately than before. Like a goodbye. “Just enjoy tonight,” Billy whispered to him. He didn’t even think about it.

He let out this soft little when Billy finally wrapped him up in his arms, snuggled up behind them in the darkness of Steve’s bedroom. He was warm, and safe. He fell asleep happy for the first time in a long time.

~

Steve wakes up slowly, a smile on his lips, and nuzzles into his pillows. He’s so happy, and warm, and he can almost feel the rise and fall of Billy’s chest pressing into his back with each breath. But when he moves to roll over, slowly coming to a waking state, he reaches for someone who isn’t there. Someone who hasn’t been there for months.

He never woke up with Billy behind him, beside him, downstairs, anywhere but out of state and far away from Steve after arguably one of the best nights of his life. 

Steve blinks his eyes open and hears Abby awake in her crib, not yet fussing but getting close to it. Blinks back some tears, too, because even after almost a year of alternating waking up in the same way, _so fucking alone_ , it still hurts. It makes him wonder - why wasn’t he enough, and what did he lacked, and awhat the fuck he did wrong.

But he’s dwelled on the what-ifs for much too long.

The _good thing_ is he has a lot more than he ever expected to have. He has his precious daughter who, even at a month old, has wispy blonde hair. (There’s no doubt she’ll favor Billy as she grows.) He has Dustin and Miss Claudia from everything that happened. He has Robin, a best friend his own age, who helps him with chores around the house when he’s half-asleep from Abby keeping him up all night, who he hangs out with most evenings she doesn’t work, who he visits at work with lunch or dinner courtesy of Miss Claudia. He has the Wheelers who send Mike over with casseroles and plates of cookies. He has the Sinclairs who tip extra any time he babysits Lucas and Erica… which ends up being every weekend. He supervises all the kids when they hang out or watch movies while Claudia works overtime. He even has Nancy and Jonathan, who think Abby is the sweetest and who help babysit her when Steve needs a break. He has a whole new family, a family who truly cares about him. 

He tries to think about all the good things in his life instead of the Billy-shaped missing piece.

Billy, who will be _home for Christmas_ any day now.

Billy told him on their phone call last night that it’s a four day drive from California to Hawkins, and he’s been calling collect from pay phones every night to talk to Abby. It’s adorable, and Steve blames how seriously Billy takes his fatherly duties for his dream and his current melancholy.

Christmas is in a week. Abby’s first Christmas. Steve’s first Christmas with her. He doesn’t have a lot of money right now; he’d had to take time off from Family Video when Abby was born, and Keith decided to just fire him instead. But he’s spent what he has on Christmas gifts for everyone close to him. The kids, Claudia, the Wheelers, the Sinclairs, Susan, and of course, Abby. Less obviously, he grabbed Billy a present too.

Now, his savings account is unpleasantly low. He’s going to have to call his parents soon to make another deposit. 

Steve wishes more often than not that Claudia could be his real mother. Or Joyce. Or even Karen Wheeler, for all that he dated and fucked her daughter. Any of them would be better than George and Kathleen, the two most _Disappointed Parents Ever_. After Steve sweeps Abby into his arms with a bunch of kisses and coos, he feeds her, changes her, and starts to get her dressed for the day in the incredibly nice hand-me-downs Mrs. Wheeler gave him from Holly’s baby days.

Once they’re both dressed, and Steve has her carefully cradled in his arms - she’s already nodding off again - he brings her into the living room where Dustin is watching a movie and chomping down cereal dry from the box.

“I need to use the phone,” he says flatly.

Dustin’s been around him long enough to know what those words in that tone mean. He takes Abby from Steve’s arms and holds her carefully, soothes her back to sleep, while Steve reluctantly dials the number for the operator, tells them it’s long-distance, and then gives the name and number for the usual hotel his parents stay at when they visit Milan. He gets put on hold while the front desk transfers the call to their room, and sighs when it rings and rings and _rings._

His mother picks up. “Yes, hello? When are our fresh towels coming up? We ordered them ten minutes ago, you know.”

“It’s Steve, Mom. Not the front desk.”

“Oh.” She sounds disappointed, probably because it’s not the front desk worker at whom she can scream. Steve feels the hole of dread in his stomach widening into a goddamn chasm. “Well, what is it, Steven? You know your father and I have a very busy schedule.”

“Busy waiting for towels,” he comments petulantly, staring at his lap. Picks at a thread coming loose in his jeans. At least he fits into his old clothes again; unfortunately, they’re _old_ , and worn, and from high school when he had his parents’ money to burn through and didn’t have to budget, didn’t have to choose between food and rent.

“Oh _really_ , Steven. Have you called to beg for money again?”

“I don’t beg. I ask.”

“We just made a deposit recently, didn’t we? You need to be more economical in your finances. You’ll never learn any responsibility unless you-”

“Mom, the last time I asked for money was in May,” he interrupts her. “It’s December. Seven months is not recent.” Steve swallows thickly. “And I have to tell you something. It’s… it’s a big deal, you know? And why I’ve gone through all of the last deposit.” He takes a deep breath. “I… I had a baby. I didn’t even know I was pregnant until I went into labor.”

“Sounds like when I was pregnant with you,” Kathleen says, almost wistful in her remembrance. “The only way I could tell was from how much weight I gained. I’m so fickle about my body so when the changes came, I went to the doctor right away.” She sighs. “And my body was never the same after. God, it’s no wonder that I only had one child.”

“Yeah…” Steve’s throat feels so dry. Steve feels so cheated; his friends all have great parents, or even just a singular parent. He has a mother who only cared that her pregnancy caused her body to change. He blinks the sting of tears from his eyes. “Well… so I have a daughter. You and dad are grandparents. And diapers cost a lot of money, Mom.”

“Yes, yes. That’s very nice,” his mother says dismissively. She’s distracted, probably by his father whose baritone voice he hears in the background, or maybe it’s the staff bringing up their towels. Steve clenches his teeth. It’s almost as if what he said finally processes with her, because she comes back to the phone to say, “Of course, I thought we’d become grandparents _after_ you got married to a _woman_. Oh, _God_ , what a mess you’ve made, Steve. What will the country club say?”

“Look, mom, I just-” Steve hates that she still has the ability to make him feel so small. He hasn’t been to the country club since he was in high school. He takes a deep breath. “I need some help, okay? I had to leave my apartment because I couldn’t afford rent since my boss fired me. And I’ve been living with a friend because I had to leave the apartment. I only need some money so I can take care of my _daughter_ , mom. _Your granddaughter._ Her name is Abby. Abigail Harrington.”

“You didn’t even give her her father’s last name? Steven!”

“He didn’t- he wasn’t even in Hawkins when she was born, he moved out of-” Steve stops, closes his eyes, and counts to ten. He’s trying not to cry, because his mother always makes him feel even worse when he does. Always calls him out for it, emasculates him with a well placed jab about how _tears are not becoming of a man._

His mom continues not long after he cut himself off.

“Well, your father and I have a _very_ important date to attend, so I’ll have to call the bank later. Tomorrow, really, given the time difference and all.” It had never been an issue when he still lived at home. Steve squeezes his eyes shut. “And maybe, once we’re back in Hawkins and, you know, settle back from our trip, we can try to squeeze you in.”

“Sure,” Steve says, voice devoid of all emotion. _We can try to squeeze you in._ “Sure, mom. We can try.”

“Very good. Now, try to be more responsible with your money, Steven. You’re looking out for two people, you know.”

Then, without so much as a goodbye, she hangs up the phone chatting with his father about their reservations for _that little osteria down the street_.

Steve sits there listening to static before the phone starts beeping obnoxiously. Listens to that beeping noise until Dustin takes the phone out of his hand and hangs it up for him. Abby is asleep in Dustin’s arms, but Dustin carefully shifts her around so he can wrap an arm around Steve’s shoulders and squeezes him softly. He’s a welcoming presence; he’s so lucky that he has Dustin.

“Don’t know what I’d do without you,” he mumbles, leaning his head over to rest atop Dustin’s.

He allows a single tear to fall from his eye. Dustin’s curls are springy and soft and they smell sweet, like the shampoo Claudia buys. Steve glances down at Abby, asleep and swaddled in a soft blue fleece blanket.

This feels more like home than his life in the house he grew up in ever did.

“Good thing you’ll never have to find out.” Dustin pats his shoulder.

They sit there for a long moment in silence, just giving comfort to each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title comes from Heart's "Alone" which is such a catchy song. (But I think pretty much all '80s music is super catchy.)
> 
> So... fun fact: I was super nervous about posting this chapter because I haven't posted smut like this before and I'm so iffy about how I write sex scenes, PLUS it's followed by a shit-ton of angst. I hoped you enjoyed the chapter anyway!!
> 
> You can always come yell at me on [my tumblr](https://lostnoise.tumblr.com/).


	4. but you still catch my eye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title taken from "Last Christmas" by Wham! which really describes this chapter well. Only one more chapter and then we're at the epilogue, guys! Sorry for the wait on this chapter, the past week has been really kicking my ass.

It’s a week until Christmas, and for the last two nights, Billy has made a point of finding a payphone to call for Abby and, in what’s maybe a round-about way, to speak to Steve. Steve … _tries_ not to read too much into it. Surely, he only has to speak to Steve because what Billy really wants is to talk to Abby. So, he asks about Steve’s day to see what Abby’s been up to. And he asks about the movies Steve rents free from Robin because he wants to make sure Abby isn’t watching anything too bad… right? He asks about how Abby is growing, of course, but also asks how _Steve_ is feeling. He _tries_ not to read into it all, the way Billy is kinda-sorta relearning Steve, the way their conversations still feel like when they were close all those months ago, the way they fall back into it all over again.

He’s _trying_ , but it’s so goddamn _hard_.

Steve needs his heart not to flutter from their conversations, each thrill accompanied by a painful fall when reality crashes down around him, but his heart wants what it wants. Does whatever the hell it wants, is more like. His heart takes no heed from Steve’s warnings. Takes no heed from the way it had been broken months ago.

Fuck his heart. Look where it got him. Like, yes, he has Abby, and he wouldn’t trade her for anything, not even a do-over of what happened, but his heart has a way of leading him to heartbreak. Self-inflicted heartbreak.

But at dinner, the phone rings. Claudia answers since the boys are eating and Dustin keeps getting distracted from his plate by making faces and talking to Abby to coax her to smile, and Steve barely eats because he’s distracted by them, just can’t stop smiling and laughing at his daughter and the kid who’s practically his brother. Claudia makes small talk with whoever’s on the other end of the phone and Steve thinks nothing of it until she calls him over to the phone. He jogs into the living room with a small smile on his face.

“Phone’s for me?” He asks, cocking his head to the side. It’s too early for Billy to be calling; he always calls around 8, which is when Steve gets Abby ready to go to bed.

Claudia smiles knowingly, silent, and hands it over.

“Hello?”

“It’s Billy,” comes the response from the other end of the phone line. He sounds a little breathless. “I, um, got to Hawkins sooner than expected. Would you mind if I, like, came by tonight?”

“I… I’d have to ask Claudia-”

“I asked her and she told me to ask you first,” Billy says in a rush. Steve blinks when he hears Max in the background, but it makes sense that Billy would go there to stay for Christmas. Steve’s not sure why it took him so long to realize where, exactly, Billy would head to first when he arrived back in Hawkins for the first time in ten months. “So… here’s me asking, pretty boy.”

Steve’s sure his heart sticks in his throat from that familiar term of endearment. It’s been a very long time since Billy last said that to him. He’s surprised by it.

“Uh, sure,” he finally replies, blinking wide-eyed and rubbing his hand over the back of his head. He tugs gently at his hair, feeling nervous all over again. “Sure. When did you want to, um, come by?”

“Maybe in an hour? Claudia said you guys are eating.”

“You’ve been eating on your drive here, right?” Steve asks, looking out the window in the living room. It’s dark and he can see Christmas lights. “Have you eaten today?”

“You sound like such a parent,” Billy says from the other end of the phone. Steve laughs softly. “You make a good mom, don’t you?”

“You haven’t seen me in action yet.” He can’t stop smiling. He’s worried that Billy can tell from his voice, by how bright it is, and his heart flutters traitorously in his chest. _Fuck._

“I don’t have to.” Steve thinks he can hear a smile in Billy’s voice. “I just know you.”

“Hmm.” Steve wants to quit being so damn _stupid_. Because Billy is naturally charming, charms the pants off of everyone. And Steve is _falling_ for it again.

“I’ll see you in an hour.”

“Yeah, Billy. See you in an hour.”

~

An hour later, Abby has thrown up all over Steve’s shirt - he’d taken _fifteen minutes_ to decide on wearing that shirt - and she even got some in his hair, so now Steve steps out of the shower and wraps a towel around his hips. His chest feels so swollen sometimes, like with all that Abby drinks from him, he’s still producing too much. He clears his throat softly, gathers his confidence, stands up straight even, but when he looks in the mirror he visibly deflates at the sight. Steve’s just… plain old Steve. He only just started fitting back in his old clothes; he’s not as thick as he was when Abby was still in him, and he did lose some of the baby weight, but there’s still a softness in his chest, some loose skin on his stomach giving him a plushness there that he detests.

Steve _knows_ he’s got nothing on the guys and girls back in California. Billy will be so disappointed when he sees Steve again, and Steve is determined to hide his body as much as possible. 

(He knows his hair is still his best quality, though, and throws a little bit of product in his hair.)

Apparently, Billy’s just arrived because when Steve steps out of the bathroom and into the hallway he locks eyes with Billy, and Billy… Well, Steve always knew that his own body had changed in the months they'd been apart, but he hadn't thought about if Billy would look different, too. He’s tanner than before, hair more golden like it’s been bleached by the sun, and he’s let it grow out longer. He looks so _good._

Billy smirks at him, glances down, and bites at his lower lip. Steve looks down too, confused because he’s so dazed by seeing Billy again, blinks at his half-naked body, and then feels himself flushing in embarrassment from cheeks to chest.

He does not run to his bedroom, but he certainly high-tails it out of the hallway. Closes the door behind him, leans against it, and shuts his eyes tightly. Well, there goes his plan to hide his body, but at least now Steve knows Billy won’t try anything that will get his hopes up, not after seeing him naked. He takes a deep breath and steels his spine, tells himself he won’t let Billy get close. Not again, not when Billy has done so well in California, looks so good, has been thriving in a way that Steve truly envies.

He won’t let Billy in. Not when Steve is going to be left behind.

He dresses quickly, throwing on one of his old color-blocked shirts and an oversized navy sweater over it, and his usual jeans. Puts on some socks, too, to be cozy more than anything else, but he’s self-conscious about every inch of his body after giving birth. His feet are wider, more veined, and he didn’t even notice until after he had Abby and could _see_ his feet again.

He feels shaken but comfortable when he emerges from his room carrying his Polaroid camera in one hand, rubs the other over his face, and walks to the living room. When he gets to the doorway of it, Steve can’t help how he stands there for a moment and watches Dustin holding Abby in his arms as Billy wiggles his fingers in front of her face. Billy’s smile lights up his whole face, and it makes Steve’s breath catch in his chest. Dustin’s smiling too, like he can’t help it, and this little hint of a smile teases at the corners of his mouth.

Steve swears she takes after Billy, young as she is, and he knows already that she’ll have that same sharp, charming, utterly dazzling smile. Grinning widely, he holds up the camera and snaps the photo of the three of them altogether. He’s grinning while he lowers the camera, takes the Polaroid that comes out and starts shaking it, then comes closer.

“Hello, little one,” he greets, smiling wide when Abby’s eyes seek him out. It’s so cute to watch her getting more interactive every day. He easily takes her from Dustin’s arms, kisses her forehead, then looks over at Billy with this tiny, knowing smile on his face. “D’you want to hold her?”

Steve bites his lip against laughing at Billy’s dumbstruck expression as he nods enthusiastically.

“You want to make sure you cradle her head, and hold her close to you,” Steve instructs, placing her carefully into Billy’s arms. His lips are parted in awed surprise, a look that makes Steve want to see Billy’s face every goddamn day, and that desire is so _dangerous_ for him. “It’ll keep her from falling, but she also really likes body heat, you know? Makes her feel safe, being close to people.”

Steve knows she’s a baby, so it makes sense for her, but the statement sounds a lot like him, too.

Billy takes her gently, oh-so-careful in handling her, and holds her close to his chest. Abby stares up at him, making these throaty little noises in her contentment. Steve carefully takes the camera from the table and takes another, shaking the Polaroid out and laying it next to the first. But Billy doesn’t even react to the second photo because he’s so engrossed in watching his daughter.

So distracted just holding her, having her in his arms, for the first time in her young little life.

Steve’s chest goes tight, his heart feeling tender and swollen and too big for his ribcage, and he forces his eyes away to look at Dustin. Dustin, who’s giving him this knowing look. A knowing, unamused, exasperated look. They communicate with darted eyes and raised eyebrows, a language all their own like they’re blood siblings, but sometimes found family is better family.

_’You still like this dickbag?’_

_’It’s complicated! Stop judging me! We had a baby together!’_

_‘I can’t believe you’re giving him a second chance.’_

_‘I’m not giving him a second chance, dork. It wouldn’t work out.’_ Steve looks away, out the window, and when he looks back at Dustin, he’s being given this sad look. _’No, no, no. Don’t pity me.’_

_‘I don’t pity you. I just want you to be happy.’_

Steve looks at Abby in Billy’s arms, that tiny half-smile on her face like she’s trying so hard to smile for her daddy now that they’re together; she obviously recognizes his voice. Steve looks at Billy, who’s smiling back at her, talking in the soft tones he reserves only for her, who looks so in love and in awe all at once. Steve looks at Dustin, finally; he’s the little brother Steve never had, the one person who he knew always had his back, who opened his arms and his home to Steve when he was at his lowest, when he needed help the most.

_’I am happy, Dustin. Look at all of you. How could I not be happy?’_

~

Hawkins decides that the year of 1986 is the best time to host their first annual Christmas Festival. They clear out one of the fields, set up some stalls for food vendors and invite people to sign up to sell crafts, or baked goods, or little gifts, or pretty much anything Christmas themed. 

The kids want to go the weekend before Christmas when it’ll be the busiest. No matter how much Steve brings up this fact, the kids - they’re high schoolers, he _knows_ , but they’ll always be kids to him - insist on going that weekend. Steve resigns himself to it when Dustin turns his pleading eyes onto Steve.

Kid always knows how to make Steve’s resolve crumble into nothing. He hopes Abby won’t be able to do the same, but he’s not confident about it at all.

Saturday morning, the ground is laid with fresh snow and the air is cold enough to keep it white and fluffy rather than half-melted and then refrozen. It looks a lot like the too-perfect scenes from movies - a small town covered in perfect snow, Christmas lights strung up everywhere, all decorated with wreaths and big bows and garlands and tinsel and painted pine cones. Poinsettias dot nearly every front store window.

Steve really likes Christmas, actually. It’s just that of course this is the morning when Abby decides she wants to fuss all day. By the late afternoon, Steve is at his wit’s end. He’s tired and stressed, and he thinks he’ll have to cancel on the kids tonight because Abby won’t be able to handle all the noise and all the lights out and about, especially not with a day like this one. He’s near tears because she just _won’t calm down_ , won’t stop whimpering and crying, hasn’t taken her morning or her afternoon nap.

He hasn’t gotten a break _all damn day_.

When Claudia comes home and comes to check on them in Steve’s room, she takes one look at him and gives him this small, knowing, sort of sad smile.

“Give her here, go take a _bath_ , and Nana will take over for the night,” she tells him, and just cuts him off with a motherly, “Ah, ah, ah! No protesting.” His mouth snaps shut on such protests threatening to leave his mouth. “What this little one needs is a night with me. And what _you_ need, young man, is a night off. Dusty already told me that you’re all supposed to go out to the Festival tonight, and you know just as well as I do that it’s not suitable for Abby to go. So leave me to my grandmotherly duties and you go get ready.”

Steve opens his mouth to protest, but Claudia merely gives him an unimpressed look and takes Abby out of his arms before walking out of his room and closing the door behind her.

He sits there for a long moment on the couch before he slowly gets himself ready for the bath she prescribed him. She’s a nurse, after all. And a mother, more of a mother to him than his own has been in the years since she’s been following after his father. Definitely a grandmother to Abby, and he decidedly loves that she takes to calling herself Nana so easily. If he cries a little sitting on the side of the tub, thinking about the new family, woven together with love, grit, and spirit, no one has to know but him.

Steve soaks in the bath, then gets dressed and does his hair - it’s grown a little longer because he’s been a little too busy for a haircut, but Steve kind of likes it like this anyway. He pulls on a coat and scarf before he grabs Dustin and they head out together to pick up Lucas and Robin. As far as Steve’s aware, Joyce and Hopper are driving El, Mike, and Will, and Max… Max will probably ride with Billy.

Steve nearly gets nervous thinking about seeing Billy at a Christmas Festival, but he’s sure that Billy won’t stick around very long once he realizes that Steve didn’t bring Abby. He might be mad at Steve, might prefer to go round to visit with Claudia to spend time with their daughter instead, and Steve honestly wouldn’t blame Billy. That’s why he came back to Hawkins, right?

He’s so sure of it, convincing himself that Billy won’t want to spend time with him unless Abby is around too, that Steve doesn’t really process that they’ve been walking around for five minutes, together, _alone_. The kids had ditched the “adults” early to do their own thing, and they’re old enough now that they can do that; Robin had disappeared inconspicuously at some point because she’s nowhere to be seen, and Steve idly wonders if she’s gone to meet the lady friend she mentioned last week.

Still, it doesn’t really register that it’s just the two of them until he feels the soft brush of Billy’s hand across his lower back to lead them down a different aisle of stalls.

Steve hasn’t felt Billy’s touch, platonic or not, in almost a year, now. He wants to push into the touch, and wants to press against Billy’s side. Billy, who looks so good tonight, with a red turtleneck sweater and his signature black leather jacket over it, the tight denim jeans that always drive Steve halfway to crazy. But Steve doesn’t go crazy, doesn’t indulge how he wants to.

Instead, he shrinks back from Billy’s touch, pulls away so that there’s a little bit of distance between them. Billy’s wearing the same clothes, looking the same - fuck, even better, if Steve’s being honest. God, if Billy actually knew how much different Steve’s body has become… if he _felt_ that difference in his body… Well, Steve’s stomach twists at the mere thought of it.

“Have you bought all the presents you need?” Steve asks, apropos to nothing. He’s trying to find a safe topic to talk about, because he and Billy used to talk about everything and anything, and he misses that. Misses how they used to be, how close they were before Billy left. Now, he’s scrounging for conversation. “There’s a lot to choose from.”

“Mm, I still have a couple things left to buy,” Billy replies with a small smile. “But I need to go to the new mall first. Nothing I can buy here.”

“Oh, I was going to take Abby tomorrow if you want to come with us,” Steve says, biting down on his lower lip. This actually works out so much better if Billy does want to come, because it’ll make Billy’s present even better.

“I’d like that,” Billy says, smiling over at Steve, and Steve can’t help but smile back, ducking his head when Billy’s elbow nudges his arm playfully. He nudges Billy back, trying to purse his lips against the smile threatening to overwhelm his face. It’s so difficult _not_ to smile around Billy. “I still need to buy something for you.”

“What? Why?” Steve asks, suddenly frowning in confusion. “Billy, you don’t need to get me anything, you know that, right? I don’t need anything.”

“I know I don’t _need_ to get you anything. But I _want_ to, Steve,” Billy tells him, and fuck if those words don’t cause warmth to surge through his stomach. “We used to be friends, right? And you… you gave birth to our daughter. You’re amazing. I want to thank you for that. And for taking care of her. And for letting me spend time with her, letting me be in her life.”

Steve bites his lip again, this time because of the wave of affection that seems to overwhelm him. “Man, I told you… You deserve to be in her life. I’m not- do I seem like the type that would keep you out?”

“It’s just… after what I did, Steve…” Billy cuts himself off, looks away and stares at a vendor selling handmade ornaments. They’re shiny, with intricately designed ornament tops in gold, perfectly formed glass in all sorts of colors. All so delicate, though, the type to shatter with one wrong move. “I would understand if you would rather I wasn’t around.”

Steve wishes he could want that. Wishes he could get Billy off of his mind at all, but... He couldn’t imagine how he’d feel if he was kept out of Abby’s life, kept out of the life of any child that’s half himself, so how could he do that to Billy?

“Good thing I’m not like that, huh?” Steve shoots back, an offering in itself.

“Yeah. Yeah, good thing.” Billy looks a little flushed, almost like he’s feeling _shy_ , but that can’t be. Why would he be shy around Steve? Must be the cold, given that Billy’s used to the warm weather of southern California. “Um, so… are you, like, thirsty or hungry or anything?”

“I could go for some hot chocolate,” Steve replies, and his chin jerks over to where Mrs. McCleary is running a hot drinks booth and, by the looks of it, making loads of money. A wise choice.

They walk over together, closer together now, elbows brushing. It’s… just companionable for them, right? Steve can get away with this little bit of touch. He can restrain himself enough not to give away how he feels so he can enjoy it a little longer. Because it feels good, walking together with Billy in this friendly, agreeable sort of silence. Steve never usually felt comfortable being this quiet with anyone else but for Dustin and Robin. It feels how it did during the week leading up to Valentine’s Day… a crackling tension between them, like the air is charged. Waiting. _Yearning_. Billy buys their cups of hot chocolate despite Steve’s protests that he can buy his for himself, just gives Steve this pointed look that Steve doesn’t really _get_ but it shuts him up anyway. They thank Mrs. McCleary and take their cups to one of the picnic tables laid out in a dining area under a makeshift pavilion.

Steve falls under the warm, bright spell of the festival’s atmosphere. It’s a Christmas Festival, so of course it’s very Christmas-like, but Steve hasn’t enjoyed the past of Christmases. Not even the Christmas he spent with Nancy, because that was- well, it’s complicated for him, spending Christmas with other families because his parents can’t be bothered.

 _Tonight_ , though, he certainly feels the Christmas spirit.

“I still can’t believe you were pregnant and didn’t know until you went into labor,” Billy comments out of nowhere, smirking around the rim of his cup, and Steve damn near spits his hot chocolate out and across the table at Billy.

“What’s that supposed to mean? It was a really easy pregnancy.” He presses a hand to his stomach, recalling all the little times that only made sense _after_ the nurse told him when he went to the ER. “I didn’t know she was there until she was ready to come into the world. I never knew I was a carrier so I didn’t expect that the couple things that did change would be from me being pregnant.”

“You don’t look any different,” Billy tells him, and Steve catches those blue eyes sweeping over his body again, just like they did in the hallway. He can feel the flush spreading over his chest, can feel his ears growing hot with it. He’s not sure if it’s embarrassment or pleasure - maybe a bit of both. “You grew your hair out, too. I noticed that. It looks really nice.”

“Thank you,” Steve replies, then clears his throat as if that’s the reason why the words came across more than a little breathy. Billy noticed his hair… thinks it looks _nice_. “Yours does too, it’s very- it looks good, too.” He bites back the urge to cringe at himself. “I think Abby’s gonna have your curls.”

“Yeah?” Billy’s grinning widely, chin in his hand, as if he’s imagining her growing up and looking like him. Steve can picture it as well… can imagine Abby in a wetsuit coming in from the surf with a board under her arm, all dark golden curls and tanned, freckled skin like her father. The image makes Steve smile softly. “I think however she turns out will be perfect.”

That catches Steve off guard a bit, because it’s such a thoughtful reply. Just laughs softly and says, “Gotta agree with you there.”

There’s a long, comfortable silence between them again as they move from sitting to standing and walking through the aisles again.

“So, like, do you have any photos of you when you were pregnant?”

The question is casual - but, it kind of sounds _overly_ casual, like Billy is putting on some sort of front - and it makes Steve wonder why Billy is asking.

“Not any, like, explicitly,” Steve answers, rubbing at the back of his neck while his eyebrows knit together in confusion. “I didn’t know until I went into labor, so they’re all just photos where I look fat.”

“I doubt that,” Billy tosses back, lifting a single eyebrow in a look that doubts Steve’s words completely. “You’ve never looked fat a day in your life. I bet you look _pregnant_ in the photos, you just didn’t know any better.”

“My mom said her pregnancy with me was really easy,” Steve comments, a finger tracing the rim of his almost empty cup. He takes a sip to finish it off, swallowing the now-cold liquid. “She didn’t realize anything until she started gaining weight and couldn’t fit into her clothes.”

“You told your parents?” Billy asks, and he looks surprised. Steve’s told Billy all about the neglectful elder-Harringtons during all those nights they used to spend together, just chatting. “How’d they take it?”

“Just as expected. Disappointed and indifferent.”

Steve nearly jumps when Billy reaches over to press his hand over Steve’s, but he calms when Billy squeezes his fingers gently. Comes back to himself rather than remembering that awful conversation all over again.

“They’re shit,” Billy tells him firmly. “Like, seriously, Steve? Fuck them. You did something incredible, Steve. You carried a life inside of you for nine months and gave birth to the prettiest little girl I've ever seen. And you did it all on your own. That's one of the most amazing things anyone could do.” He squeezes Steve’s hand again; Steve feels warm all over. “You… you gave me our daughter, and I wish so fucking much that… that you knew about her, so that I could have been here for you. I could have helped you through it.” Steve swallows thickly against the emotion welling up inside of him. “So _fuck_ your parents; their opinions are worth less than shit.”

He can't help but laugh at that, the sound startled from his throat, and Billy seems pleased by the reaction if his smile is anything to go off of.

It starts snowing then, little flakes coming down and laying fresh on the town. Steve is distracted for a moment gazing up at the sky, doesn't realize that Billy is still holding his hand until he squeezes his fingers once more. Steve glances over suddenly, is caught up in those blue eyes framed with the prettiest lashes - Steve has never really paid attention to that aspect in anyone, but Billy… Billy’s not just anyone.

And then Billy pulls him into a space between two vendor stalls, an overhang keeping them from being snowed on, and presses him up against the rough wooden wall. Steve’s breath catches in his chest. There are tiny snowflakes caught in Billy’s hair, and it’s making Steve want nothing more than to run his fingers through his curls to see if they feel just as smooth and silky as they used to.

But this thing between them, the thing that has Billy pushing him up against a wall, is absolutely _nothing_ like he’d expected. Nothing like he’d hoped for.

“Billy,” Steve whispers, his breath coming out in a small cloud from the cold. Billy presses closer, their chests touching, and the space between their mouths seems so close with each passing minute.

“Stevie,” Billy whispers in return, eyes wide and wanting. Steve _can’t_ be making that up, can he? “Stevie, there’s, well, I- that is, I need to tell you-”

He’s so fucking positive that Billy’s about to kiss him, and he wants it so bad, can feel the ache of longing in his gut. Steve reaches up to grip the lapels of Billy’s leather jacket to keep him close. Feels his breath catch again when Billy’s eyes dart down to his lips.

“Steve! Billy!” comes the cry from not far enough away. Of course, right when they’re about to kiss is when Dustin spots them.

They both jump at the sound of their names. Steve’s hands drop back to his sides, a bright red flush spreading over his cheeks, and he sees Billy pull away as well and his eyes dart all over, everywhere and anywhere that isn’t the guy he’d just been about to kiss.

Steve’s stomach sinks.

It’s still snowing when they leave their little hiding place, the kids crowding around them and showing off the different things they’ve bought and wanting an opinion on who picked out the best ornament.

Dustin is giving him this look, and when Steve finally looks back, they have their own silent conversation.

_’Steve, what the hell are you doing?!’_

_‘He pulled me over there. He said he had something he wanted to tell me.’_

_‘Tell you or show you?’_ Dustin glances down at his own body and then back up at Steve with a pointed look. Steve rolls his eyes. Meets Dustin’s again, knows everything Dustin wants to say. _‘I just care about you, dude. You’re my big brother and I don’t want to see you hurt again.’_

_‘And I don’t want to be hurt again. But… I also don’t want to be afraid to be happy, just because I’ve been hurt.’_

_‘If you’re sure, man. Love you.’_

_‘Love you too, Dusty.’_

They hug, every word between them unspoken but heard nonetheless.

“Do they do this a lot?” Billy asks from the side, giving the pair an inscrutable look.

“All the time,” Max replies with an eye roll and a groan. “It’s weird… they have _entire conversations_ without saying a single word.”

“I think they’re mind-readers,” Lucas offers, taking another bite of a giant chocolate chip cookie.

Steve rolls his eyes. He’s still stunned by everything that’s happened tonight - the time spent with Billy, the way he’d pressed Steve up against the wall in such a private way - but he’s really happy. Happier than he expected to be.

~

Claudia has a Christmas party the evening before Christmas Eve. All day, Dustin has taken over his favorite “chore” of watching Abby while Steve helps Claudia in the kitchen. He’d never been much of a cook before he moved in with the Hendersons; he had survived on school lunches when he’d still been in school, and cans of soup and frozen meals and takeout and sandwiches. But Claudia has taught him how to make pasta and meatloaf, macaroni and cheese and mashed potatoes, even taught him how to bake bread. Steve keeps flitting between the kitchen with her and the living room just to watch Dustin and Abby together, and he’s not ashamed to admit that he and Claudia both keep sneaking in to give affection to their two favorite people in the world. Dustin’s smiling face when Steve drops a kiss to the top of his head and then ruffles his hair sticks with him. This is the best Christmas he’s ever had, even with his… sort-of-ex back in the picture.

Not a romantic picture, though.

Billy had called the morning after the Christmas Festival and asked Steve if he could take Abby for Christmas Eve for some time with Max and Susan. _”So she can meet my family, you know?”_ And Steve didn’t know why that made his stomach sink - it’s not like Billy had pressed him up against a wall the night before, pressed them so close that Steve thought… thought something that obviously couldn’t be true. It’s so obvious to him now that, you know, Billy was just nervous the night before, was pressing close so he could ask without Steve, like, noticing him blush or something to ask to take Abby.

Steve is _so fucking dumb_ for reading into something that he was so wrong about. Why did he let himself buy into those feelings? Why couldn’t he just… just use his damn brain for once?

He tried to get Billy to go with him to the mall, because he’d scheduled photos to be taken of Abby for her first Christmas; Billy had other plans come up, stumbled through saying so, and Steve didn’t try to press him about it. But Billy will come over every night to help put Abby to bed, talking to her and telling her stories about California, and she falls asleep to his voice so quickly that Steve can’t help but smile at both of them. He just  
hides it behind his hand.

Now, Steve keeps stealing glance after glance of Abby. Part of him is so scared that now Billy has met her, has fallen for her the way Steve did himself the day she was born, that Billy will try to take her away. And Steve has a new family, he knows that; Claudia and Dustin are family in a way his parents never have been and probably never really will be. But Abby is who caused all of it to happen, and Steve can’t imagine his life without her in it, too. He couldn’t even _blame_ Billy for wanting his daughter to be a part of his life, because Abby is such a large part of Steve’s, and he had asked Billy. Had wanted Billy to be in Abby’s life, wanted her to be a part of Billy’s. Still wants that for both of them.

Once the evening comes, and the tree is turned on and the lights dimmed a bit, the room seems to glow with Christmas spirit. It smells like turkey and ham and stuffing, and Steve can’t wait to eat the mashed potatoes he made because they taste _damn good_. 

Everyone is due to arrive soon - the Byers, the Wheelers, the Sinclairs, Hopper and El, Robin, Max and Billy and Susan - and they’ve all donned their nicer clothes. Steve got Abby into this tiny red and gold dress, something Claudia bought him two weeks ago and it had made Steve tear up just seeing it in the box. _"Just call it an early Christmas present for our little one,"_ she had told him, and he would never admit to anyone that it'd made him cry a little, and he knows Claudia wouldn't tell a soul.

Seeing Abby dressed up like this, a tiny red hat over her barely-there wisps of hair, makes Steve’s heart swell in his chest. She’s so adorable and perfect and Steve can’t wait to show her off.

Claudia hid the mistletoe somewhere and won’t tell him nor Dustin where it is. Apparently this is something she does every year. As everyone arrives, they give Abby smiles and soft kisses. Mr. Sinclair tickles her neck and she gives him that tiny half-smile. Joyce coos over Abby and holds her for a long moment before handing her gently over to Hopper, who seems lost in his mind for a long moment before a smile slips onto his face. Mrs. Wheeler asks if he can help Holly hold Abby, because she’s so fascinated by the tiny baby.

The best part is when Billy shows up and takes one look at her outfit and lights up.

“Don’t you look your best tonight?” He asks her, and Steve’s heart beats overtime when Abby seeks him out. Steve offers for Billy to take her and Billy does with a thankful smile.

With so many people around to watch after Abby, Claudia slips him a glass of wine and winks at him. Steve hasn’t drank much of anything in months, so this is a bit of a treat. Two glasses in, and Steve is rosy-cheeked and affectionate, giving the kids hugs and clapping Hopper on the shoulder.

He takes a moment in the kitchen while they’re starting to exchange gifts in the living room. He’s a little flushed from the alcohol, a little sweaty at the back of his neck, and a little overwhelmed by everything and everyone. He pushes open the back door to get some cool air, shudders when his sweat starts to chill, then presses the side of his head to the cool door frame.

“You okay?” comes a voice from behind him. Steve jumps at the sudden words, can’t help how they surprise him, and he knocks his head against the door as he goes to close it.

“Ah, shit,” Steve curses. When he finally turns, _of course_ it’s Billy standing there, giving Steve a thoroughly amused look. “What?”

“I asked if you were okay… seems like you’re having some issues,” Billy says, and he’s fighting back a smile, Steve can tell. He wishes Billy wouldn’t do that; he has such a nice smile.

“I’m okay. Just…” Steve gestures to the door like it’ll speak for him. “A little overheated.” 

“How much have you had to drink tonight?” Billy asks, and Steve rolls his eyes.

“Not that much,” he scoffs, thinking about it. “Two glasses of wine. Maybe three. Practically nothing.”

“A lot for someone who hasn’t been drinking for how long?” Billy teases him, then laughs when Steve just pouts. “I’m kidding, pretty boy.”

He ducks his head when that endearment slips from Billy’s lips. It used to mean something to him, Billy calling him _pretty boy_. Now, though? Well, Steve wishes that it meant something more than just a joke. When he looks up, Billy is giving him that inscrutable look again. Steve frowns. “What’s wrong? Do I have something on my face?”

“No… no,” Billy says. Swallows and shakes his head. “Nothing’s wrong. Nothing on your face, either, princess.”

“You keep doing that,” Steve blurts out. He wants to punch himself for it, too, because _damn_ , did he need to bring it up now? He coughs into his shoulder, looking away. “Calling me… the names you used to.”

“What are you saying, then?” Billy asks, raising an eyebrow and the corner of his mouth. Steve knows he has to look dumb, standing there staring, as Billy steps forward and Steve leans back against the door. Boxes him in with arms on either side of his head. They’re _so close_ again. Just like the other night. Close enough that Steve can see the freckles on Billy’s cheeks. “That I can’t tease you anymore, princess?”

Steve _knows_ that Billy’s eyes are on his lips. He knows it. He wants to make a move, wants to kiss Billy, because there’s no way that Billy is still pressed in close, there’s no way that their mouths are only _inches_ apart - there’s no way that Billy doesn’t feel _something_ for him still, right? Steve breathes in through his nose, glances at Billy’s lips, so soft and plush and pink, and he knows what those lips feel like against his own, once. He wants to know that feeling again.

Steve leans in, eyes closing briefly, but Billy’s turned his head and Steve’s lips land clumsily on the other man’s cheek. His stomach goes cold, turns to stone again, falls all the way down to his feet when Billy scrambles away like Steve’s on fire. Like he can’t stand touching him any longer. Steve stays where he is, leaning on the door, and watches Billy look at him like Steve just, like, killed his cat or something. 

“Don’t do that, Steve.” Billy sighs and looks away, and Steve feels disgusted with himself. He clenches his jaw and tells himself not to start crying like some lovesick schoolgirl; he doesn’t, but it’s a damn near thing. He did it again… read too much into it. He’s so stupid. “I’ll get Abby in the morning. Get yourself together, okay? You’re drunk.”

Then Billy turns and leaves. Walks through the living room - and the rustle of clothing when he grabs his jacket, the way everyone asks where Billy’s going and he replies he’s not feeling well. Steve stares down at his feet when Billy says goodnight to Abby, apologizes for not being able to stay longer to put her to bed himself. He hears Billy walk down the hall and shut the front door behind him oh-so-quietly.

He might as well have slammed it for how the noise ricochets through his head like a goddamn bullet.

Steve should start expecting these things to happen to him by now. He knows he was terrible in high school, was a bully and a complete asshole, and that he deserves a lot of bad things to happen to him. Even while he’s waiting for everything to get better, eventually, part of him believes that it never really will. It’s just another shit storm heaped on top of the one before it, when Steve has just barely waded out of it all.

Being with Billy has been on Steve’s mind more often than not in the months they’ve been apart, but now Steve knows, without a doubt, that obviously his feelings aren’t returned. Steve should have taken the first time, when Billy walked out and he didn’t see him again until after Abby was born, as the giant fucking clue it’d been. Billy isn’t interested in Steve. Maybe, once, he’d been curious, but… but that’s all it ever was. Curiosity. A thirst sated. Steve sniffles softly and ducks back outside into the cold.

He sits down on the back step, curls his arms around himself, and presses his face into the cradle of his arms. He just feels so _dumb_ , and Steve gets it. He knows that he’s dumb, that he never paid attention in school, that he doesn’t get the references people make sometimes. He’s far from smart and he still doesn’t know how someone as intelligent as Nancy Wheeler was ever interested in someone as dumb as him. Still thinks about when she read his essay. Thinks about the looks he’d get from teachers with pity in their eyes.

Even if he couldn’t always understand what they were saying, Steve thought he could read people. He’s wrong, though, because he’s as stupid in matters of the heart as he is in everything else in his life.

Billy already broke his heart once, and now it feels like all the same places are hurting again. Nothing good could come from being around him, from mooning after him. It’s not like they’ll ever be _boyfriends_. Billy lives a golden life in golden California, probably has a beautiful, golden girlfriend back home. Someone perfect, someone normal. And Billy probably wants to take their golden little girl away from drunk, stupid Steve before he gets her kidnapped or killed or something.

And who could blame Billy? Steve’s a mess. He’s living with his teenage-best-friend and his mom, and as much as he loves the Hendersons, tonight he feels the weight of how much of a burden he’s been all his life. First to his parents, then to the Hendersons, now to Billy, who just wants a relationship with his daughter. And Steve had to make it awkward.

He’s such a stupid, awful fuck-up.

The door to the kitchen opens behind him and Robin slips out, vocally shivering.

“The fuck are you doing out here, dingus?” she asks, rubbing her hands together and blowing on them. Steve hasn’t looked up, still has his face pressed into the sleeves of his sweater, but she still comes to sit down next to him. She knocks her shoulder against his companionably, which is… comforting. “You’ll catch a cold out here like this.”

He laughs wetly into his arms.

“Hey,” Robin says, voice softer than it had been. Softer than it usually is, honestly. She’s always so biting with him, because that’s their way of talking. “If… if something happened with Billy, you can tell me. If he did something he wasn’t supposed to.”

“What?” Steve asks, feeling called out, like she’s baiting him into confessing to his attempt at kissing Billy against his will.

“I mean, he went into the kitchen looking for you and came out looking like he was about to punch something,” Robin starts, “and I’ve seen the way he’s been looking at you, Steve. I don’t know how you feel about him anymore, but after what he did, if he tried something you didn’t like, I’ll go find him, and I’ll r-”

“Robin, Robin,” Steve tries to stop her, then finally shakes his head and holds his hands up. Looks up at her with his face tear-stained and possibly a little snotty, and no doubt he was a splotchy red color. “No, stop. It’s- I tried to kiss him. I thought… I thought he felt the same, but he didn’t want me to.”

Steve sniffles and the noise is quiet even in the darkness around them. Robin leans against his shoulder and he leans his head against hers, nestling it there when she reaches over to rub at his knee. She gives him a lot of hell, but Robin takes such good care of him when he needs it most.

“He doesn’t deserve you, Steve Harrington,” she says fiercely, squeezing his knee.

Steve wishes he could believe her.

Once everyone’s left, Steve takes Abby into his room and holds her into the early hours of the morning. As she sleeps in his arms, he gazes at her with eyes that slowly fall shut with sleep.

He dreams of her that night, dancing on a beach, with golden curls and a smile just like her father’s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can always yell at me in the comments or over on my [tumblr](http://lostnoise.tumblr.com/).


	5. invested too much time to give you up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title comes from Par Benatar’s “We Belong” which is one of my favorite songs ever.
> 
> You guys, this is pretty much the last chapter and next comes the cute epilogue, which hopefully be up later today.
> 
> **Warning:** This chapter includes male lactation and sex with a post-pregnancy body. Just to give a heads up!

Billy wakes up the morning of Christmas Eve feeling like he’d gotten hit by a car. His whole body is sore and stiff - and that’s nothing new, not since he nearly died after the Mind Flayer. His heart lays there with a heavy beat, though, thumping painfully in the confines of his ribcage as he remembers what happened last night at Claudia’s house.

He groans softly and buries his face in the pillow beneath his head. He can’t believe after everything, Steve tried to kiss him while he was _drunk_. Maybe it’s just Billy’s luck that the guy he’s in love with is only interested when he’s drunk.

Especially since Steve’s been flinching away from every single one of Billy’s touches like they burn, like he can’t stand to have Billy touching him unless Billy has him cornered and he can’t get away. And Billy is an asshole, he knows that; he can and will readily admit to being an asshole. How he got here, with a baby girl and a hopeless love life, is point enough. But he’s not _that_ kind of asshole, because he’s _never_ going to force himself on someone or take advantage of them because they’re drunk. Just the thought of Steve waking up this morning and remembering Billy taking advantage of him after all Billy has done to break his goddamn heart - Steve doesn’t deserve that. 

So it doesn’t matter how much he wanted to kiss Steve last night, not when he knows Steve wouldn’t really want it. If Steve had been in his right mind, he would have flinched and shied away from Billy’s touch like he has every other time.

And- the thing that has reaoly messed with him, despite his persistence, is how Steve always keeps the conversation off of himself. Like, of course Billy wants to know all about his daughter and how she’s doing… but he wants to hear about Steve, too. He wants to hear about the dumb shit Steve and Robin get up to; he wants to hear the latest thing Dustin says to him that makes Steve giggle the way he does when he gets on the phone; he wants to know what Steve ate that day, or the new shows or movies he’s watched. Steve just has this way of always directing the conversation towards Abby, barely gives away anything about himself no matter how often Billy asks, or how he tries to redirect it back to Steve. Billy can’t help but feel like that’s supposed to be a sign. That all Steve has been doing is giving him signs to stay away. That he wants nothing to do with Billy romantically.

He sighs to himself, gets himself up, and starts his morning routine. It’s something that’s, thankfully, mindless, and he zones out while doing it - works out, takes a shower, gets dressed, does his hair, then has his morning smoke out on the front porch.

Taking a look around Cherry Lane on this early winter morning, Billy feels something inside of him settle down. He spent two Christmases here in Hawkins, and though it never truly felt like home, he feels the call of something like it now. But Billy thinks it has more to do with the company. Abby, obviously. Steve, too, even with how hot and cold he’s been. He finds that he actually likes being around all the kids, the parents, Hopper and Joyce, even Jonathan and Nancy fucking Wheeler. Susan and Max, two women who seem to love him. Perhaps it’s the lack of his father breathing down his neck - Neil’s fucked off to Indianapolis after Susan kicked him out and filed for divorce a month after Billy left. Billy hopes the fucker has succumbed to alcoholism but Neil’s a tough bastard, so he probably has a few more years yet. Whatever it is, Billy’s happy. Today is nice. Sure, it’s cold and snowy and he wants to be back in California, where there’s sun and the sound of the ocean and the smell of the waves… 

But, he guesses being back in Hawkins isn’t _so_ bad.

He has to grab Abby soon for the day, and he’s sure, after seeing how drunk Steve was the night before, that he’s not even going to remember it. He and Steve never drank heavily - a few watery beers at the quarry, nothing that would get them _drunk_ , just buzzed enough for them to let their guards down - so last night’s Steve was a little bit of a shock. Red-cheeked, overheated, looking at Billy with those wide eyes he loves so much, and so much desire had welled up in Billy that it’s a wonder he was able to keep himself under control. He wanted to kiss Steve, wanted to take Steve for all he could give right there is Claudia Henderson’s kitchen. And maybe if Steve hadn’t leaned in first, Billy _would_ have kissed him. 

Billy sighs and tosses his cigarette into the snow-filled pot next to the front porch, watches it fizzle out, then jumps into the Camaro to drive to the Henderson house.

When he gets there, Dustin answers the door with Abby in his arms. He doesn’t say anything to Billy, just swings the door open and moves inside to grab Abby’s things. She’s dressed in this puffy winter onesie and there’s a bag packed for her on the floor that Dustin hands over and Billy shoulders as he steps inside. As Dustin gets Abby into the carseat, Billy looks around for Steve.

“He’s in the shower,” Dustin says from the side, voice icier than Billy’s expecting. When he looks over, Dustin is glaring at him intensely. “Look, dude, I know you two had a kid together, but can you just… stop leading him on?”

“Leading him on?” Billy repeats back, and he’s so confused.

“Yeah, _buddy_ , you’re giving him all sorts of mixed signals.” Dustin pokes him firmly in the chest and Billy stumbles back the very slightest bit, mostly from surprise. “Don’t think I didn’t see you at the festival pushing him up against that stall. You’re making him think you have feelings for him, and after all you’ve already done, he doesn’t deserve that!”

Billy frowns. He’s confused but also a little affronted. “Steve doesn’t like me like that,” he says, practically growls the words as he takes Abby’s carseat in one hand and the bag in the other. He keeps himself calm enough to handle his daughter safely, but still glares at Dustin and clenches his jaw. “He’s been avoiding me since I came back, okay, and I _get it_ , I can take the fucking hint. You don’t have to rub my nose in it.”

“You’re a fucking idiot,” Dustin scoffs, rolling his eyes.

Billy bares his teeth in anger and storms out to the car, struggles with the car seat but calms himself down enough with one look at Abby, serene and staring up at him. He finally gets the seat buckled in and he makes his way back to Cherry Lane trying not to fume over little Henderson’s words, but they stick firmly in his mind anyway.

_Leading Steve on…_ Steve only wants to kiss Billy when he’s drunk. When he can’t think straight. When his back is against the wall and there’s no other choice.

...Right?

~

He spends the rest of the morning not thinking about it.

It’s easy when he’s grinning and laughing, watching Susan and Max play with Abby. They all take turns holding her. It’s still a novel concept for them, for Billy too; he’s a _father_ , this perfect little angel in his arms is half of him. He wants to give her everything he possibly can. When she falls asleep in Susan’s arms, Billy takes a moment to step out for a cigarette and Max steps out with him. They huddle together on the front step, arms pressed together, and Billy feels at peace in a way he never does unless he’s out on the ocean waiting for the perfect wave. Blissful peace.

Well… mostly.

Dustin’s words are still stuck in his kind, and he keeps running over them. Billy must have some sort of look on his face because Max nudges him with her elbow.

“Penny for your thoughts,” she says when he glances over at him.

He thinks about shrugging it off for all of five seconds before he caves and sighs. Taps ash from his cigarette. “It’s just something Dustin said when I picked up Abby.”

“What did that nerd say?” Max asks, eyes narrowed, and Billy smirks because she’s so damn protective of him and it’s honestly very sweet.

“He told me to stop leading Steve on. That I’ve been giving him mixed signals. Steve doesn’t even like me!”

“Dude,” Max says, voice flat and disbelieving. Billy looks at her askance. Max’s expression takes on that distinctive little sister look - the _are you really that fucking dumb_ look. “Anyone with eyes can see how ass over tits Steve is about you.”

“What? No, no, no, you got it all wrong,” Billy protests, taking a drag from shaky fingers and shaking his head to dispel the seed of hope Max is planting in his head. He’s gearing up to give his rebuttal but Max holds up a hand and he loses his steam.

“Billy,” Max says, gentling herself in the way she does for so very few people in her life. “Steve hasn’t been with anyone else since you left. He was depressed for _months_ , and I covered for you because I love you. But you’re a fucking idiot if you think he’s not just as in love with you as you are with him.”

Billy swallows, mouth dry as cotton, and blinks several times as he processes the words. Max knows exactly how he feels about Steve. But now Max is telling him that Steve… feels the same way?

“But, he only tried to kiss me when he was drunk,” he protests weakly, taking a long drag from his cigarette as if to gather up his courage. “And he’s been, like, flinching away from me every time I try to touch him. Never lets me ask about him or talk to him or anything.”

Max reaches over to hold his hand; he didn’t even realize it’s shaking until she squeezes it.

“I’m saying this because I love you, okay?” She waits until he nods and he takes another drag, exhales a small cloud of smoke into the cold air. She takes a breath of her own. “You really fucked up in February, Billy. I know you needed to leave. I know Neil was getting worse and worse. I remember that morning, okay, when you guys got into a screaming match and- I thought he was going to really hurt you, I thought he was gonna _kill you_ , so… but it’s just- Billy, you seduced him after he wore his heart on his sleeve for _months_.” Billy flinches when he hears his little sister use that word, but knows she’s right. “We all saw how in love with you he was, and then you left him the next morning and moved out of state without so much as a goodbye.” He looks down at his lap and bites his lower lip. He knows what he did was undeniably wrong. “You really fucked him up, dude. Maybe he’s trying to protect his heart so you don’t break it again.”

“Maybe,” Billy mutters around the butt of his cigarette. He’s jittery, too much energy with all this information coming to light. Can’t stop drumming his fingers against his knee. “Maybe I’m trying to protect mine, too.”

“He’s not going to hurt you Billy,” Max says, voice almost a whisper, and she leans against his side. Leans her head on his shoulder. He takes a deep breath in, holds it, and lets it out. His chest fucking _aches_. “He isn’t.”

“Yeah.” He breathes again, keeping it slow and even like Hippie Bob taught him. “I know… you’re right. He wouldn’t do that.”

Billy takes a final pull of nicotine and tobacco and fuck knows what else into his lunch, throws the cigarette half-finished onto the street, then leans back on his hands to look up at the cold, blue sky. It’s idyllic, complete with fluffy white clouds while he exhales. It’s Christmas Eve and Billy’s in love, and maybe he fucked up before, but maybe, just maybe, he has another chance, now. Maybe Steve doesn’t hate him completely, maybe-

“Do you think… do you think that we could work somehow?” Billy asks, and he’s not emotional; he’s not. Very rarely does he get teary-eyed or upset anymore, but right now? Right now, he’s unsteady. A little shaken. His voice trembles as he speaks. “That we could, maybe, make it work?”

“If you try,” Max tells him, and it’s so encouraging that he glances over and gets pinned by her icy blue eyes and how soft they are. She cares about him so much, he realizes, and he misses her fiercely when he’s back home in California. “You could do so much, Billy. But you’ll never know until you try.”

Billy laughs wetly, eyes bright, and he rubs at them like he’s definitely not about to cry. Like a tear or two haven’t yet leaked from the corners of his eyes. Because he’s _not_ crying and he’s not going to, he’s just… overwhelmed.

“You give a good pep talk,” he tells her, pulls her against his body tighter with a rough sling of an arm around her shoulders. He kisses the top of her head as she giggles into his chest.

“And you’re a dumbass who just needs a little encouragement.”

~

When Abby wakes up from her nap an hour later, things start to go downhill. At first, he can hold her in his arms and close to his body to get her to settle again. Rocks her a little, calms her back down. But as time wears on, she grows worse and worse, starts to fuss something _fierce_.

Billy has tried everything. He mixed up the formula, heated up, even tested it on his wrist like Susan showed him but she won’t take the bottle. He’s tried singing to her - which usually will put her to sleep, she loves lullabies - and rocking her, playing with her, making faces… He pulled out toy after toy, changed her diaper three times, changed her _clothes_ , tried putting her back to bed.

And _nothing works_.

The more difficult and unappeasable Abby gets, the more Billy grows haggard and on edge. Her uncomfortable whimpers and groans and the way they ebb into crying is more than Billy can handle on his own. He’s glad he has Susan and Max there with him to help him out, but nothing seems to settle Abby and Billy’s about to cry himself, which he _doesn’t do_ , but this is his daughter and she just won’t _settle_.

“Girl needs her Mama, nothing else for it,” Susan finally sighs, a hint of a smile tugging at her lips. “We had a really good run though. The morning and most of the afternoon, right? Thank you so much for bringing her over, Billy. Make sure you thank Steve for us when you get to the Hendersons, okay?”

Max is packing Abby’s bag back up and zipping it shut, grabs the puffy winter onesie Abby wore over here and helps Billy wrestle it back onto her tiny body. Covering the baby in a soft, warm blanket Billy had bought for her, Max bends down to kiss Abby’s forehead. Billy straps Abby into the back of his car, less struggle this time with Susan’s help.

When they have the baby settled in the back, Susan pulls Billy into a hug. He startles because he and Susan don’t touch all that much, haven’t touched since Billy came back that first night.

“Thank you so much for bringing her over, Billy,” Susan whispers.

He fights back a grin and slides his arms around Susan to return the hug. “She had to meet my side of the family, right?”

If Billy hears her choke up, feels her squeeze him tighter, and if he feels a little wetness in his own eyes, well, their only witness is a baby.

When he starts up the car, he puts on the Fleetwood Mac tape he keeps hidden in the glovebox. Plays it softly over the speakers. Sings along a little, too, and it seems to help Abby calm down. She quiets a little, still letting out these little whines and grunts, but no longer crying. As soon as he turns off the car after parking in the street outside the Henderson house, though, Abby starts outright _wailing_ in the back of the car.

Billy doesn’t know if he’s ever felt quite this bad before, but he wants to cry right along with her because there’s nothing he can do to make her feel any better. He’s tried _everything_ and really, he thinks Susan is right; Abby just needs to be with Steve.

Once he’s rang the doorbell and is trying to rock the carrier carefully in both arms, hushing and babbling at his daughter, Billy only looks up when the door opens and Steve is standing there in his pajamas.

“Billy?”

And Steve looks a little rough but he’s such a sight for sore eyes. Billy takes a moment to look over him, almost as if seeing him anew now that he has Max’s and Dustin’s words ringing through his head. Steve looks… surprised to see him, but not completely opposed. Though, that could be easily attributed to the fact that Billy has their daughter in his arms.

“Help,” he croaks out over Abby’s cries, which have started to get louder now that she’s heard Steve’s voice. “She won’t settle down, wouldn’t take her bottle, she only took one nap all day, Steve. She hasn’t eaten since this morning and I don’t know what to _do_.”

And Steve, the angel he is, ushers them both into the house, gets Billy to put down the car seat, and takes her out, shedding the jacket with practiced fingers. Billy watches him go into mom-mode, cooing at her and talking to her in these gentle tones. She stops wailing, but won’t stop whimpering and fussing, and Billy can only follow after them as Steve walks towards his room.

Steve’s always been pretty, but like this - messy hair, pajama pants, looking sleepy and comfortable and cozy, taking care of their daughter so easily, so well - Billy feels his heart speed up in his chest. Because _fuck_ , he loves Steve so much.

~

Steve is surprised at first to see Billy at the front door. But, when he hears Abby’s cries, hears that Abby wouldn’t take the bottle or drink the formula, Steve just sighs knowingly and gets her out of the car seat and her jacket before heading towards his room. His little girl needs to eat, and Steve had been hoping she’d take the formula and behave for her father, but apparently she’s just as particular as Steve can be sometimes.

“Little one, I thought I told you to be good for your daddy,” he murmurs to her, walking down the hall.

He doesn’t really pay attention to whether Billy comes along or not as he opens the door to his room. He’s more focused on Abby, obviously, pulls his shirt off with a practiced hand, and shifts Abby to his chest. She started rooting when he first took her into his arms, and now he gets her lined up right so she can feed. When Steve happens to look up, away from his precious daughter who’s looking at him with increasingly sleepy eyes, Steve catches Billy glancing away from him quickly, his curls bouncing with the movement. He’s squirming where he stands in the doorway, can’t even _look_ in Steve’s direction.

Maybe it’s because of the almost-kiss last night, and now Steve’s shirtless with his body on display. Maybe it’s that he’s breastfeeding; some people have a problem seeing that sort of thing in action, especially seeing carriers doing it. Whatever the reason is, Steve’s… tired of this. He’s tired in general because he couldn’t sleep last night, but he’s more tired of Billy’s bullshit. He hates that word, but it’s so accurate for how he feels right now. It’s all such _bullshit_. Steve doesn’t have it in himself to go off on Billy the way he thinks Billy deserves. He can admit that maybe he read too much into everything between them. But Billy doesn’t have to, like, be so obvious about how uninterested he is.

“If you have a problem with me breastfeeding her, you can shut the door,” he finally says, eyes sinking back down to look at Abby in his arms. Already her eyes are slipping shut. She definitely worked herself up all day - Steve can just tell, knows her so well by now, beyond hearing it from Billy - and now she’s worked herself back to sleep. “Or, you know, you could leave. This is _my_ room, last time I checked.”

“I… what?” Billy looks at Steve like Steve has five heads or something. “Steve, no, that’s not—it’s not _that_.”

He deflates a little because, honestly, he’s just exhausted; he’s a single parent trying to make sense of everything going on around him, while also trying to take care of his daughter. Steve is barely out of his goddamn teens himself.

“Then why are you acting so weird, man?” Steve asks him, and his voice is so quiet, so fragile, that he almost believes he didn't say it out loud.

He glances up to see Billy staring at him intensely, and usually he would look away. But today? Today, Steve stares right back, doesn’t flinch away any longer. He’s tired of trying to avoid Billy to save his heart. Tired of hiding.

“You’re playing me hot and cold. Don’t try to say you’re not—” Steve holds up a finger when Billy makes to speak and purses his lips. “Don’t try to say you’re not, because you don’t just push someone up against a wall or a door and get close the way you get to me. You don’t get to just… _do_ that to me.” Steve swallows against the emotion welling up in his throat. “You _knew_ how I felt about you. You knew, Billy. And then you left for California the morning after. And now you’re back and you’re _confusing me_ , okay?! And if this is really all in my mind and I’m just making it up, then I’m sorry I couldn’t take the hint and tried to kiss you last night. I never meant to… to force myself on you. I know you hate me and th—”

“Wait, you remember last night?”

“I was buzzed but I wasn’t drunk,” Steve tells him with an eyeroll. He huffs a little and shifts Abby in his arms now that she’s asleep. “And stone cold sober right now, thank you very much, not even a hangover. So you don’t have to rub it in—”

“Do you… do you want to kiss me right now?” Billy asks him very seriously as he slowly walks forward to stand in front of Steve.

Steve is so fucking confused. “What the fuck, man? Why…? Seriously, I don’t get you. Are you trying to make fun of m—”

But Steve is cut off by Billy’s lips pressed against his own. And it’s been months, right, _months_ since he’d last had it and he’s been craving it _all those months_. And he’s been angsting about this all day today, how Billy left him last night, and how much he still wants to kiss him. Now he is. Steve, completely shocked at first, sits still on the edge of the bed trying to process the fact that the guy he’s been pining for is here in front of him, kissing him. It only takes him a moment, and then Steve is kissing Billy back in the most tentative fashion because he wants this so bad, has dreamed of this, but he doesn’t know what to believe.

As soon as he’s kissing back, Billy’s hands come up to cup his cheeks, holding his face so gently that Steve thinks for a long moment that he must be dreaming. But Abby’s in his arms and he hears her sleepy snuffles, and he can smell the lingering smoke and cologne on Billy’s clothes, can taste the tang of Billy’s last cigarette on his lips. They slowly stop kissing, breathing in each other’s air in the small gap between their mouths.

“You never let me ask about you, talk about you, relearn you the way I used to know you,” Billy whispers, pressing his forehead to Steve’s. They both shut their eyes, just listening to their breathing and their voices. “And you kept flinching away every time I touched you. I thought you were trying to tell me to back off, you know? You seemed so scared of me and I- I didn’t want to push you. And then you tried to kiss me, and I thought that- I thought you were only kissing me because you were drunk. I don’t ever want to take advantage of you, Steve. You need to know that.”

Steve takes a deep breath at that and doesn’t say anything in return. Billy’s thumbs slide over the ridge of his cheekbone and it’s so tender that Steve’s brittle heart quakes in his chest.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Stevie.” Billy kisses his cheek this time, just to the side of where his thumb lays on Steve’s cheek. “All I can do is say sorry, and try to make it up to you, and promise I won’t leave you like that again. Not like… not like how I left you before. I didn’t mean to leave like that.”

Pressing his cheek into Billy’s hand, Steve turns his face into it and brushes his lips across Billy’s palm. “You really hurt me.”

“I’m sorry,” Billy croaks out. Steve leans back so he can look up at this golden boy he’s loved for so long. Billy looks fragile too, like one wrong move will break him into pieces just like Steve. “Please, just- let me explain. Please.”

Steve nods and looks down at Abby. “Let me put her down.”

Once she’s been placed in the crib, Steve turns back to the bed and shrugs his shirt on. Shimmies backwards, and leans against the pillows with his legs drawn up under him, folded neatly. He pats the bed, urging Billy to join him, and he does - he takes off his jacket, slips off his shoes, then knee-walks over to sit in front of Steve. They’re barely two feet apart but Steve feels closer than he ever has, probably because both of their hearts are laid bare between them. Billy reaches out slowly to take Steve’s hands into his own, curling his fingers around Steve’s and holding his hand so gently in his lap. 

Billy is silent for a long moment, and Steve waits with him, waits for this beautiful boy to get himself and his words together.

“My dad,” he starts, “is the biggest asshole I’ve ever met. Since I can remember, he’s been pushing other people around. Ex-military, Vietnam veteran, all-around hardass who liked to slap my mom around. My mom left him and she left _me_ with him. He’s been- I mean, I’ve been-” He bites at his lower lip, like he doesn’t know how to talk about the next part and he looks to the side. “Neil started by slapping the back of my head, or grabbing my arm real tight, shaking me, and yelling at me, then it- well, it got worse, to the point where he’d leave bruises, split my lip. Broke my arm one time, dislocated my shoulder another. We moved from California to here because he thought it’d be a good influence on me, because he’d kick my ass _any time_ I’d talk back to him, or any time I seemed too… too feminine. Too gay. Too rebellious.” He squeezes Steve’s hands. “I couldn’t keep- I couldn’t continue like that, Steve. And I should have told you, I know. It’s just so fucking-” Billy chokes up and Steve aches for him, squeezes his hands back. Rubs his thumbs over the backs of Billy’s knuckles.

“It’s so hard to _talk_ about it, Steve. I was raised to be strong, to not show how I feel because my feelings made me _weak_. And I was raised to… to fear my goddamn father. I was so scared, every fucking day, that I’d come home and that would be the day that I’d be either kicked out or beaten within an inch of my life. The day after Valentine’s Day, I knew I couldn’t stay here in Hawkins, not with him hovering over my shoulder. Because, you know, as scared as I was for myself, I was worried… I was worried he’d come after you, too.” Billy shrugs a shoulder. “So I went home that morning and I packed up all my shit into the Camaro, even tied my tiny mattress to the roof. Neil… he caught me, you know? With a box in my arms. Caught me leaving, and we got into an argument, a goddamn screaming match in the front hall, and he tried to hurt me. He wanted to kill me. He had a fucking knife in his hands, and- and I couldn’t take it. Not anymore, not when I was healed and whole again.

“I know it doesn’t excuse what I did, but… but I regret it every day, leaving you behind. I thought it’d be easier for both of us if I just took myself out of your life. With the father I had, the danger it’d put you in… It’s so fucking dumb when I think about it now. But it’s a regret I’ll have to live with for the rest of my life.” Billy leans down as he raises Steve’s hands up, turns them so he can press kisses to the knobs of Steve’s knuckles. “I’m not asking for you to forgive me, at least- I understand if you can’t now, or even any time soon. Or ever. I get that. But I hope you can learn to forgive me.”

Steve takes a long moment to breathe, to process all of it. Something had always seemed amiss when it came to Billy’s homelife; he’d talk about Max, he talked that one time about his mom, but he never said much about his father. Or about Susan, even. Steve had never been over to Billy’s house except for idling on the street if he got roped into giving her a ride to or from somewhere with the rest of the kids. He thinks about the bruises he’d catch on Billy’s jaw, on his ribs, and it started to make sense. The way Billy never met his eye when he said he’d gotten into a fight with someone. And Billy’s right; the explanation doesn’t excuse what he did, doesn’t make it right.

But Steve could give him a chance to make it right.

“So tell me,” Steve finally says, and when Billy looks up at him and their eyes lock, blue with brown, Steve hopes his face is as earnest as he feels, hopes it shows how much he needs to hear what he’s about to ask for. “Tell me the truth. Tell me how you feel about me, Billy.”

“I’m in love with you,” Billy confesses. Whispers it so quietly, like he’s afraid of what Steve will do with the information. “Steve, I- I’m so fucking _in love with you_ , it makes my chest ache. I’ve missed you so much.” And Steve can barely breathe as the words continue to tumble from Billy’s lips. It’s everything he’s wanted to hear since Billy left. It’s everything, and he feels like he’s dreaming again. “I don’t know if you- I don’t know what you want, Steve, I don’t know what you want from _me_ , but I want… I want so fucking much for us.”

“You want there to be an us?” Steve asks, breath caught in his chest, holding it in as he waits for the answer.

“Yes, fuck, of course I do, Stevie. I want you to be mine. You don’t know how much I want that.”

“I think I have a clue,” Steve whispers, a smile pulling at the corners of his lips because he’s happy. It’s been a really tough time for him, since Billy left, but he’s so happy right now. “You know how I feel about you, right? You know… You have to know how much- Billy, I’m head over _heels_ for you, I’m in love with you too.”

“I know, pretty boy. ‘S nice to hear, though, isn’t it?”

He knows Billy will have to leave at some point to go back to California. And they haven’t talked about what the future has in store, what their plans are. But when Billy leans in, hands moving from holding Steve’s to pressing gently onto his knees, and slants their mouths together, Steve knows, somehow, that they’ll work it out. They’ll work through it, work together.

And, anyway, Billy has a hell of a lot to make up for.

Claudia gets home an hour later, her shift at the hospital finally over, and Steve and Billy spend that time kissing softly and talking about the past, then go to the kitchen to help her with dinner. When Dustin emerges from his room not long after, he starts to give Billy the stink eye but Steve stops him with a shake of his head.

_’It’s good. We’re good.’_

_‘His ass is grass if he hurts you.’_ Dustin gives a hard glare as if to emphasize the unspoken words, and Steve has to hide a smile.

Abby wakes up during dinner and Billy goes to get her, comes back a couple minutes later with a freshly-changed baby. Christmas Eve, then, is a quiet affair; they watch Christmas movies on the television, Dustin laying on the floor with pillows and a blanket, Claudia cozied up with a mug of hot chocolate and a robe, while Steve and Billy sit on the couch, their sides and legs pressed together while Billy holds Abby.

Steve reaches over to rest a hand gently on Billy’s leg, glancing in his direction to gauge his reaction. If he’s allowed. When he sees Billy’s soft smile, the affection written across his face, Steve smiles back, leans in to press a small kiss to the corner of Billy’s mouth.

~

Waking up the next morning is a challenge. Steve thinks he’s dreaming again when he wakes to a warm body pressed in close behind him. He’s determined to stay asleep, to enjoy the feeling for as long as possible, and he’s half asleep when he shimmies back against the dream-body.

Only it’s not a dream body. Dream bodies don’t curl their arms around his waist to keep him from moving.

He blinks his eyes awake to light spilling through the curtains, the room a bluish gray in the early morning hours. Abby is usually awake at this hour, fussing for food, but she’d stayed up late last night with them, almost like she wanted to spend as much time as possible with both of her parents. Now, though, it’s just him who’s awake in the early morning, and he turns carefully around, laying on his side to face Billy and gaze at his sleeping face.

Steve reaches up with one hand to lightly trace his fingers across Billy’s cheek and over the bridge of his nose, lets his fingers move up and back to run through Billy’s curls. God, but Billy is so damn pretty, looks so good and soft and sweet like this, asleep next to Steve. He can tell when Billy starts to wake up and stops touching, but Billy blinks awake anyway, looking confused for a moment before that look melts into pure contentment.

“Good morning,” Steve whispers, trying and failing to fight back his smile.

“Morning.” Billy rubs the sleep from his eyes, obviously still tired. Arms wrap around his waist again and pull him in closer until their chests are touching. “Little one still asleep?”

“Mhm,” Steve hums back, leaning in to nuzzle at Billy’s cheek. He’s feeling so warm and affectionate, wants this moment to last forever. He’s still not entirely convinced that he’s awake - that this isn’t another dream.

Billy turns them, moving Steve so that he’s sitting astride Billy’s lap. Steve is sure that his hair is sticking up everywhere, that he’s got the bedhead he hates, that he must look a complete mess, but Billy looks up at him like Steve’s the best thing he’s ever seen.

“Merry Christmas,” Steve says, pushing his hair out of his face and tucking some of it behind his ears. He’s trying to fight the smile on his face but he doesn’t have enough willpower for it to be successful.

“Merry Christmas, baby.” Billy leans up on his elbows and Steve leans down, presses their lips together in a soft, sweet kiss, regardless of their morning breath. Steve lingers there, nudges his nose against Billy’s, and smiles when he feels Billy’s smile against his mouth. God, Steve’s just so fucking _happy_ , he must look absolutely ridiculous like this.

“I keep thinking I’m dreaming,” he admits, his voice a low murmur in the quiet of the early morning.

“Not a dream, pretty boy,” Billy assures him, hands moving to rub at Steve’s hips. He pulls Steve a little closer, nudges his nose back against Steve’s.

Steve’s breath catches in his throat, because there’s a certain kind of tension building between them, the kind he hasn’t experienced in so long. He hasn’t been with anyone since… since _Billy_ all those months ago, and he goes completely still when Billy’s fingers push up under his shirt. He reaches down to curl his fingers around Billy’s wrists.

“Billy,” he starts, looking down at his own body. It hurts to bite the words out, voicing all of his insecurities. “I’m not… my body isn’t the same as it used to be. If that’s what you’re expecting.”

Billy frowns and turns them back on their sides. He presses his hand flat against the softness kf Steve’s stomach. “Your body is perfect.”

“It’s- you haven’t even seen me-”

“I saw you the other day when you got out of the shower,” Billy corrects him, raising a single eyebrow. He licks his lips and leans in to press a soft kiss to Steve’s. “Stevie, let me show you.”

Steve breathes in deeply and considers it. He’s nervous about taking his shirt off - Billy couldn’t have gotten a _good_ look at his body - but… but he lets Billy’s hands drift up under his shirt, lets Billy pull it over his head and toss it to the floor. He’s not expecting Billy to start kissing his neck and it shocks a quiet gasp out of him. The touches start on his chest, which Steve should have known better than to allow, because when Billy goes to touch his pec, swollen as it is from breastfeeding, a bit of milk squirts out. Steve is absolutely _mortified_ because it hits Billy in the jaw.

“Oh _god_ ,” Steve groans, and not in a happy way even if the touch to his chest felt nice. Touches from Billy feel nice in general. But he’s just absolutely humiliated by his body’s normal response. He covers his eyes with his hands, hiding most of his face that way too. “I’m so sorry, they get really, um, _full_ in the morning, this is so emb—”

Billy’s fingers wrap around Steve’s wrists and pull his hands away from his face. “Hey, look at me,” Billy tells him softly, and with his face bright-red, Steve does as he’s told. Billy smiles when their eyes meet. “It’s not embarrassing. Don’t be embarrassed. It’s natural.” He leans in to kiss Steve’s lips so softly and Steve melts into it. Billy nuzzles at Steve’s cheek, then whispers into his ear, “I love your body, baby. This body carried our daughter, and you don’t even know how beautiful you are to me… I love every bit of you.”

Steve is still flushed, but this time from Billy’s words. No one has ever talked to him like this, said the kind of things Billy is saying to him now. It’s overwhelming to be at the center of such attention… overwhelming, and so satisfying, honestly.

Billy starts kissing down his neck again, over his collarbone and Billy nuzzles at the hair on his chest. When Steve glances down, it’s to see Billy’s tongue flicking at his nipple. The sensation goes straight to his dick, a sudden, lightning-quick zing of pleasure that he’s never experienced before. His nipples have never been this damn _sensitive_. It’s not like he gets turned on when Abby’s feeding, but with Billy’s mouth on him, it’s like there’s a string connecting them to his cock and he’s gone from chubbing up to fully hard in seconds.

“Billy,” he breathes, _whines_ , really, because he’s trying to be quiet. Abby’s asleep, Claudia and Dustin are asleep - it’s just him and Billy in this blue-gray world of their own.

“Yeah? You like that, Stevie?” Billy asks in a low voice and the breath puffing out of his mouth and across his nipple has Steve arching his chest up. He wants it, wants _more_.

Billy gives him that sharp grin that makes Steve’s breath catch in his chest. Dives back in, this time laving attention on the other side of Steve’s chest. Steve gets caught up in it, eyes rolling back in his head while heat starts building inside of him. Pressing a hand over his mouth, Steve muffles his moans and whimpers, bites at his fingers to try to keep the noises from slipping out of his throat. Billy leans back to blow on the wet skin, makes Steve hiss softly, and gently, so gently, nibbles at the rosy bud of it, until a sob slips from Steve’s lips because it feels so fucking _good_ , but he’s getting so close and he hasn’t even taken his goddamn pants off.

He’s panting when he drops the hand from his mouth and tugs gently at Billy’s hair while his hips arch up and he rubs his dick, hardly restrained in the loose fabric of his pajama pants and boxers, against Billy’s body. “Please,” he whispers, feels like he’s breaking apart. His chest is leaking from the attention, but Billy keeps swiping his tongue over the droplets, licking them up then licking over his lips like he’s savoring the taste of it or something. It’s hotter than it has any right to be. “Billy, _please_.”

“I got you, baby,” Billy replies, pressing a final soft kiss to Steve’s nipple and returns to his lips, kisses him deep and dirty, and Steve thinks he’s going to fucking shatter soon, and Billy’s going to have to put him back together after.

Steve lets slip another gasp when Billy bites gently at his chin while his hands move to gently cup either side of Steve’s chest, thumbing at his nipples. His cock’s leaking, wet spot darkening the front of his boxers, because Steve’s always been so fucking _needy_ when it comes to being touched, needy and desperate. Billy chuckles, low and dark, and the sound alone nearly sends Steve over the edge.

“‘M so tempted to make you cum just like this, just playing with your tits,” Billy breathes into his ear, lips brushing over the shell of it. Gently squeezes Steve’s chest. Steve shakes in response even though sweat beads across his skin as he grows hotter and hotter with each moment that passes. “But you want something more, don’t you, Stevie?”

“Yesss,” he hisses. His mind's a total mess; he’s torn between rutting up against Billy until he spends himself in his shorts, breaking down and begging for more - his noise level be damned - or flipping their positions so he can wrestle Billy’s boxers off.

The choice is taken from him when Billy leans back and slips his fingers into the waistband of his pants, under the elastic of his boxers, and pulls. Steve shimmies his legs out, and now he’s naked and exposed and he has nothing he can hide behind. For the first time since he “gained weight” and his belly stretched out, Steve doesn’t even think about how his body must look. He’s so turned on, wants Billy _so badly_ that it no longer matters. Steve leans up so he can help Billy push off his own boxers, licking his lips at the sight.

Billy’s all golden tan and smooth skin and soft lines of muscle. It’s hard not to compare their bodies in Steve’s mind, but it’s almost like Billy knows where his mind went because he leans back in to kiss Steve hard, slides fingers into Steve’s hair to hold him still, to keep him right where Billy wants him. A small sound of pleasure falls into Billy’s mouth. They move onto their sides, Steve’s leg thrown up over Billy’s hips, and he only breaks the kiss when he needs to take a breath.

He takes the break to turn over, reaching into the side table and feeling his face heat up when his fingers close around the tube of lube, then rummages deeper for a condom. Steve licks his lips when he looks over his shoulder at Billy, catches him staring at the line of his back, down to his ass. So he pushes his hips back, lets Billy’s dick press against his ass, feels Billy’s whispered little _“Fuck”_ across the back of his neck and it send shivers down his spine. Billy’s hands glide over his hips, caressing the sweat-slick skin, before grabbing them and pulling Steve back into him. Grinds his hips forward and makes Steve pant again, makes him bury his face in the pillow beneath his head.

He’s never been this turned on before in his fucking _life_ , he swears it, and he pushes his ass back before grabbing Billy’s hand to press the bottle of lube into it. Billy bites at the top knob of his spine almost as if answering the gesture with one of his own, sinks his teeth in just enough to let Steve feel it, to let Steve know there’ll be a mark there for the next day or two. God, he _loves_ that.

Steve turns around to face Billy, can’t do this not looking at him, not being able to see every reaction, and he tears the condom wrapper open, slips it down over Billy’s dick with practiced fingers though he’s only ever put a condom on himself. Bites his lip when Billy’s eyes flutter shut and he lets out this breathy noise that gives Steve the good kind of goosebumps.

“You’re so goddamn hot,” Steve whispers, stroking Billy’s cock through the condom, nips at Billy’s jaw. He wants to remember this forever. “Got me so hot for you, baby. Fuck.”

Billy distracts Steve with a bone-melting kiss, the kind that’s dirty and slick with just the right amount of tongue, the kind that has Steve’s body going lax even as his dick grows harder if that’s even _possible_. It’s a lot, all of it together, and he’s distracted enough that Billy’s fingers, now slick, start sliding over his entrance, tracing around the rim before one pushes forward and inside of him. Steve shudders, throws his leg up over Billy’s hip to let Billy get a better angle to press against his spot which knocks the air right out of Steve’s chest the first time Billy’s fingers stroke over it.

He wraps an arm around Billy’s shoulders, squeezes and moans this soft, quiet thing, trying his hardest not to be loud. A second and third finger follow, unhurried, and they stretch him open so thoroughly that Steve’s breath stutters on an inhale when Billy’s body shifts and rubs against the head of his cock.

“In me,” Steve pants, kissing and nibbling down Billy’s neck to distract himself from how fucking _good_ Billy’s fingers feel inside him. “Goddamn it, put your dick in me, _please_.”

“Shhh,” Billy soothes, pushing Steve onto his back and settling into the space between his spread legs.

Steve is flushed and sweaty, panting, hair sticking to his face, probably a nest upon his head, but beyond pushing the loose hairs out of his eyes, Steve doesn’t really give a shit. He simply _wants_. Longs. 

Desires Billy so desperately that he reaches down to curl his fingers around the base of Billy’s dick and lines him up. Billy mumbles out a little curse and muffles Steve’s moans with his mouth as he pushes inside slowly.

“Fuck, Stevie, so good for me… Love you so much, you know that?”

“I love you too,” Steve whimpers into Billy’s mouth as his fingers dig into Billy’s shoulders. “Love you, missed you so badly-”

“I’m here baby, I’m back, I’m not leaving you again,” Billy promises, kissing Steve over and over, swallows the little noises spilling out until Billy’s seated fully inside of him. Steve reaches up to cup Billy’s face in his hands, eyes locking on each other, and Billy takes a deep breath, turns his head into Steve’s hand and kisses his palm. “Don’t have to miss me anymore.”

His eyes sting with emotion as he slides his fingers into Billy’s hair and pulls him into a kiss, this tender thing that is soft and loving and everything Steve wants. Everything he needs right now. It seems that Billy can’t wait any longer and his hips inch back before pressing back in, and Steve breaks the kiss to bury his face in Billy’s neck.

It’s slow. It’s intimate. Their bodies are pressed closed, their mouths panting hotly over each other’s skin, their sweat causing skin to stick and slide where it connects. The build is as incremental as the sun creeping up over the horizon, the room warming gently with the orange glow, and Steve reaches down to touch himself. He keeps taking these hitching little breaths every time Billy presses into him, thick and deep, and it takes over all of his attention. The pleasure surges hot through him, and Steve clutches at Billy’s side, his hand sweeping down to grab Billy’s ass to help him grind in deep.

“Billy, shit,” he pants, biting at the hinge of Billy’s jaw. One of Billy’s hands goes to Steve’s hip, grabs it tightly, fingers digging in and Steve hopes he leaves marks, hopes to see this later, tomorrow, three days from now when Billy’s back in California. He feels so… so _wanted_ in that moment, desired in so many ways, taken care of completely. It shakes him to the core. He’s suddenly right back on the edge again, whimpers softly.

“I got you,” comes Billy’s reassuring voice whispered into his ear. Steve shudders, one hand moving to his dick to stroke himself. “There you go, baby. God, you feel so good... Wanna feel you fall apart under me, c’mon...”

And Steve? Steve can’t handle any of it any longer, shoots across his stomach, feels like he’s whiting out with how hard it hits him. And Billy’s breathing words of love into his ear, little pants of _“love you, love you so much,”_ that make Steve’s head spin. He tightens around Billy, limbs clinging, can’t get words together the way Billy can, but wants him to come, too.

He shakes in Steve’s arms, grunting once, twice, three times as he empties into the condom and stills atop Steve.

“Wow,” he whispers, blinking up dumbly at the ceiling. “That… that was…”

“Yeah,” Billy manages to croak out, voice low like Steve’s and rough with their pleasure. “ _Fuck_ , babe.”

“Love you,” Steve tells him after he catches his breath a little, pressing a soft kiss to Billy’s temple. “Love you so much.”

“Love you too, Stevie.” Billy leans back to give Steve a soft kiss, sweet and lingering and Steve’s skin is buzzing, like every nerve ending is alight with sensation.

Billy reaches over the side of the bed to grab Steve’s t-shirt, and Steve wrinkles his nose as the other man uses it to wipe them both off, but doesn’t even put up any token protests because he’s just tired and sated and wants to wrap himself up in Billy’s arms for the rest of forever. As if reading his mind, Billy does just that, pulls Steve in against his chest and holds him. He relaxes into the hold, both of them on their sides, nuzzles Billy’s nose affectionately.

“I got you a Christmas present,” Steve admits a little later, half-dozing and half-awake. Traces some little shapes over Billy’s skin. Just takes in the moment and doesn’t want to move.

“Yeah?” Billy presses a hand down Steve’s back, pulls away to get a better look at Steve. “I got you one, too, pretty boy.”

“You did?” Steve asks, eyebrows furrowing together in confusion. He hadn’t been expecting that, obviously. “You didn’t have to get me anything, Billy, you know that, right?”

“Of course I do,” Billy chuckles softly, reaching up to cup the side of Steve’s face affectionately. His eyes are so warm that Steve gets a little lost in them, wants nothing more than to have Billy look at him this way for as long as possible. “But I wanted to. Probably same as you.”

Steve shrugs, smiling, and leans in to give Billy this small, adoring sort of kiss before he sits up to grab the gift. It’s wrapped in green paper with a red ribbon wrapped around it and tied into a decent-looking bow. He hands it to Billy. “You go first. Open it.”

Inside is a photo album only filled part-way with photos of Abby. There’s some higher quality photos from a photoshoot Jonathan did when he’d come back for Thanksgiving; Abby is tiny, so little, had only been a couple of weeks old when the photos were taken. There are a couple from when she was first born, one in particular where she’s laying on Steve’s chest, another with her in Claudia’s arms, another still with Max smiling down at her. The last few are from the last several days, photo after photo of Abby in Billy’s arms, including the candid Steve had taken during their first meeting.

“Do you like it?” Steve asks quietly, hands picking at the sheets beneath him. “I know it’s not a lot, but…”

“It’s perfect.” Steve looks up and sees tears in the corners of Billy’s eyes. “I wasn’t able to be there, you know, in the beginning. I only got to talk to her over the phone. So this means a lot to me, Steve.”

Steve reaches over to twine their fingers together and gives Billy this small smile, looking at the other boy from under his eyelashes. Billy squeezes his hand and moves to the edge of the bed, reaching for his jacket. The inside pocket holds a small black box and if Steve didn’t know any better, he’d think it was an engagement ring.

“I don’t… I didn’t have money for a proper one,” Billy starts, licking his lips as he fiddles with the box. “But… it’s like, like a promise.”

“Okay…?” Steve’s heart thuds in his chest, beating faster, because this all seems to point to one thing. Billy flips the lid open and inside is a golden band, thin, with a delicate pattern etched into it. His hand covers his mouth. “Billy-!”

“Listen,” Billy whispers, taking Steve’s hand away from his mouth. He sets the ring down and holds both of Steve’s hands in his own. “Steve Harrington, I love you. I’ve been in love with you for well over a year now… maybe even since we first met. And you know how sorry I am for what I did in high school, and I want to earn your forgiveness for leaving you. This…” Billy looks down at the ring. “This is a promise to you. It doesn’t have to be anything else.”

Steve takes a long moment to respond, dizzy from all the implications. “What if I want it to be more than a promise?”

“Then let it be, pretty boy. Just want you to be mine, yeah?” Billy holds up the ring with one hand, holding Steve’s left hand with the other.

“Yeah,” Steve breathes out, and there are butterflies in his stomach. He feels like he’s going to explode with emotion. His lips drag into such a wide smile as Billy slides the ring onto his finger, then leans down to press a kiss over it. Steve cups the back of Billy’s head and pulls him into a loving kiss, filled with all the words he can’t bear to say. “Yes. I’ll be yours if you’ll be mine.”

Billy laughs, and Steve snickers as he rushes to cover Billy’s mouth with his own, doing very little to muffle the happy noise. He knows Billy can’t help it, knows that he’s so close to breaking down into excited laughter. Billy pushes his fingers through Steve’s hair and tilts his head back, looks Steve in the eye with such a look of fondness that Steve feels shot through from it.

“Come back with me,” he pleads. “Come with me to California, you and Abby. Let’s be a family, finally.”

Steve bites at his lower lip as he thinks about it. He doesn’t have much holding him here beyond the people. He’d miss Claudia and Dustin, who are truly lifelines to him here in Hawkins. He’d miss Robin, of course. He’d Lucas and Erica, and even Mike when he needed some sarcastic commentary. He only sees the others on the holidays.

He still could, though. See them on the holidays. And he’d have Billy and Abby - he’d have this dream that seems to be coming true.

“I’d follow you almost anywhere,” Steve confesses. “To the ends of the earth, if I needed to.”

“No one could ever take me that far from you. Not ever again.”

No one else will ever know that they wipe away each other’s tears after, smiling and laughing and kissing until the rest of the world wakes up.


	6. we can build this dream together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are, guys: the final part of this cute story. The title comes from "Nothing's Gonna Stop Us" by Starship. Really great song, I'd recommend listening to it because that's the whole mood of this ~epilogue~!
> 
> I want to thank every single person who has left a kudo, comment, or has supported me in any way, including reaching out to me on tumblr.
> 
> This entire story is for and dedicated to @[phaesporia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phaesporia/), who with the simple statement of needing a "I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant" AU set this into motion. Thank you for being so goddamn supportive and headcanoning with me and letting me build you this little world for these boys, and for being such a good friend.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this epilogue. Feel free to check out the extras in the end notes.

_FIVE YEARS LATER: Santa Monica, California - December 1991_

Billy huffs when they pull up to Claudia’s house. He takes in the front of it and all the landscaping that she’s absolutely transformed, and more importantly the Christmas decorations Steve had helped her and Dustin hang two weeks ago while Billy had been stuck in bed. He _fucking hates_ being stuck in bed. Technically, he’s _still_ on mandatory bed-rest from the doctors, but he’s not letting something like _being pregnant with twins_ keep him from being around their family and keeping up their traditions, especially when their family had flown all the way out to California for them when Billy couldn’t travel. 

He’s been nauseous most of the day, vomiting for the first few hours of the morning like his body has become accustomed to every few days since the early stages of the pregnancy. He has acne no matter how immaculate he keeps his sheets, or how many times he washes his face. And his back hurts from the weight of carrying two babies, and he’s on a special diet because he’s hovering on getting preeclampsia even though Billy has been living a healthy, active life and quit smoking five years ago. It’s a goddamn joke, is what it is. He’s sweaty like, _all_ the time, and apparently Steve had been too, so he blames it on the Harrington half of the baby affecting him. Billy has weird food cravings at weird hours, and he puts on weight too easily. In the last month of his pregnancy, he hasn’t been able to get comfortable, not once, without one of the twins sitting on his bladder, or getting gassy, or hissing from how sensitive and tender his chest has grown and not in the fun way Steve’s had post-pregnancy with Abby.

Steve gets Abby out of the car and she’s running to the front door, doesn’t even ring the doorbell before she twists the knob and flings the front door open.

“Nanaaaa!” she calls out at the top of her lungs and hurries inside.

Billy would be snickering if he weren’t _so damn uncomfortable_ , because she’s so much like him. Beyond the blonde curls down her back, beyond the blue eyes and the freckles and the way she tans in the sun, and the way she takes to the water just like he does - beyond all that, her personality is so undeniably _Billy_ that people often ask Billy if _he_ had been the carrier. And yeah, sometimes, Billy wishes he’d gotten Steve’s pregnancy with Abby. Steve’s pregnancy was, other than his belly growing large and a spat of morning sickness in the beginning, a walk in the park. Billy grumbles when he looks at himself in the mirror and thinks about photos he’s seen of Steve during that time; Steve practically glowing, with that nice skin, nice hair, nice everything.

Billy feels like his glow is merely sweat.

Dustin comes out through the open front door with a grin on his face while Steve helps Billy out of the car. Because Billy can’t get up by himself, especially not now. Thankfully, Claudia lives close enough that they can come here quickly from their new house, the one Steve has been stressing over “closing on” for the last six months, and they’ve barely moved all the boxes in much less unpacked them with Billy on bed-rest. Claudia is holding another Christmas party, the first since she moved to the new house, and he can’t wait to see everyone, even if he’ll never admit to it out loud.

When Billy is vertical and has Steve’s arm wrapped around his waist, Dustin steps over and hugs both of them, Billy more tenderly than Steve. Dustin has been just as excited about the twins as he ever is about Abby, and it really makes Billy melt to see how much Dustin loves being an uncle. Makes him melt a little more to be considered family, by Claudia and Dustin and everyone in their group.

“Need me to grab the presents?” Dustin asks, and Steve nods and thanks him for the help while he ushers Billy inside and into the living room.

Joyce and Jim are staying with Claudia, as are Jonathan and Nancy, so they’re all scattered about the house. Jonathan and Hop are in the living room, both of them glued to the television while a VHS of Home Alone plays.

"Grandma Joyce!" Billy hears his daughter squeal from the kitchen, apparently already having come through to hug her way through the people in the living room. He frowns; Billy loves when Abby greets Jim, because she calls him Poppy and he goes all red in the face and all of him softens into a smile. He doesn't dwell on that for long, because he knows, with how affectionate Abby is, that there will be plenty of opportunities to see it happen later. 

Dustin struggles with the two boxes of presents they’d stored in the trunk of Steve’s new van, and once Billy is safely on the couch, Steve leaves with a soft kiss to the top of Billy’s head and hurries back out to help Dustin with the burden, both of them carrying in a box apiece. The presents are in short order deposited at the base of the Christmas tree to join the other mounds already sitting there.

Billy is a little hot in the house, what with the oven going all day and heating up the house, the extra bodies and the California winter weather that’s more cool breeze than anything else; plus, he’s been _too warm_ since month six of his pregnancy. It's crazy to think that until seven months ago, Billy didn't know he could be a carrier at all, and now he's the size of a house, it feels like, about to add two more babies to their family. While he hates being pregnant, he knows that he and Steve still want more children.

Before he can struggle to sit up and try to stand and make his way down the hall to the kitchen, though, Steve walks over with a glass of ice water and Billy sighs happily and then takes a few small sips. It helps settle his stomach a little. Cools him off.

“Thanks,” Billy mumbles, tilting his chin up and getting an affectionate kiss in return. Steve pushes some of Billy’s curls out of his face, and Billy only allows it because Steve had helped him do his hair before they left the house and because he gets another kiss for indulging Steve.

Steve settles in next to him, an arm stretched out across the back of the couch and his fingertips rest along Billy’s shoulder. Billy has one hand under his stomach, doing everything he can to relieve some of the discomfort, and sets the glass of water down. Abby strolls in with a cookie in both hands, comes straight for Billy to hold the uneaten cookie up. “Daddy, you want a cookie?”

“Not right now, sweetheart,” he tells her, reaching out to straighten her skirt. “Daddy’s stomach is upset.”

“Hmm, how ‘bout you, Mama?” Abby holds the cookie in her fist for Steve to take, and he does with a little laugh. “It’s choco-chip!”

“I see that,” Steve says, sighing as he eyes up her chocolate-covered fingers. He grabs a couple of napkins off of the coffee table where other snacks have been set out, then wipes down Abby’s hands. “Why don’t you stay right here and leave Nana and Grandma Joyce alone? They’re busy cooking.”

Nancy comes in from the guest room down the hall, only to get a squealing Abby wrapped around her legs. “Ohhh, little Abby! Look at you!” She sweeps Abby up into her arms and gives her a big hug, squeezing her lovingly. Swings her around to make the little girl shake with giggles. Abby’s everyone’s favorite, to the surprise of absolutely no one in the world. “You’re getting so big, sweetie!”

“I’m a big girl now, Aunt Nancy!” she agrees, clinging to Nancy’s neck.

And, like, Billy is an asshole, will always be an asshole, but this shit makes him go all soft and gooey on the inside. His daughter and their little family, mixed and matched and sewn up with tender loving care, all together again. He rubs his stomach, because soon they’ll be adding two more babies into the mix. It stirs up emotion in him that he just tries to breathe through, and swallows back the tears that are threatening to fuck up his normally stoic and controlled facade.

The fucking hormones are probably the worst thing that Billy has to contend with in being pregnant.

Steve’s hand cups and squeezes his shoulder and Billy looks over, sees Steve looking so fucking happy, so content and _warm_ and with eyes a little wet like Billy’s are, and Billy turns his head to kiss the back of Steve’s knuckles. He’s so fucking lucky to have Steve, Abby, the twins, to have everyone in this house and everyone due to arrive.

“Max should be here soon with El and Mike,” Dustin says when he walks in, hands slipping into his pockets. “And when Lucas called he said that Robin would be there soon to pick them up from the hotel, so he and Erica and Will shouldn’t take too much longer either.”

After dinner, after the presents are exchanged, after Billy’s back in the couch and leaning comfortably into Steve’s side, Joyce clears her throat. Steve’s hand has been rubbing small circles along the underside of his belly to soothe some of the tension there, and his hand doesn’t stop even as Joyce begins to speak.

“I have some news to share,” she announces, reaching over to hold Hopper’s hand. “We’ve been thinking about it for a while, you know, thinking about our life in Hawkins and everything happening, and we’ve decided… we’re going to move to California.”

“Wait, what?!” Jonathan says from next to Nancy, both of them sitting up like they’re offended, glancing between Joyce and Hopper and each other. “ _We’re_ going to move to California!”

“You can’t-” Lucas sputters from one of the fold out chairs, Will sitting next to him with his mouth dropped open, a hand flying up to cover it as the shock turns into utterly joyous laughter. “ _Will and I are moving to California_.”

“Is everyone moving to California?” Steve pipes up in confusion next to Billy, and Billy shrugs his shoulders because he doesn’t know what the hell to say with everyone making these _confessions_. Abby is clapping her hands happily, running to give everyone hugs.

Because Robin had moved out of Hawkins only a handful of months after Steve left. Dustin moved out to California after graduating at sixteen from high school with a full-ride to UCLA to double major in chemistry and engineering. And Claudia, unable to stand being away from her boys much less her granddaughter, followed soon after. Max, once she graduated, brought El to the west coast to see the beach for the first time, and they’ve stuck around ever since. Mike followed after a couple of years, unable to keep away from her.

Erica laughs because she announced that she got into FIDM before dinner earlier that evening, and Robin bursts into a fit of giggles along with Steve and Claudia and Dustin, and Billy can’t stop smiling. Can’t stop chuckling softly into Steve’s shoulder while Steve plays with the hair at the back of Billy’s head. The twins have settled in his stomach, no longer moving around - as if comforted by the family around them, comforted by the safety Billy feels.

It’s a dream come to life. A dream they’ve worked so hard to build. They’ve all worked so hard and come so far, and everything feels like it’s finally clicking into place.

One of the babies kicks under Steve’s hand and Billy feels the grin Steve presses into his hair.

“Look where we are,” Steve whispers, and the words cause Billy to choke up a little. Steve seems emotional too, misty-eyed again. “Look at our life, Billy.”

Billy just closes his eyes and revels in the warmth of Steve against his side. He never thought he’d be here, back when he left for California. Never thought he’d be this happy.

“I love you,” Billy tells him, curling a hand over Steve’s atop his stomach. Steve kisses his head and wraps himself a little tighter around Billy. “I’m so fucking- I’m so happy, Steve.”

The lights on the Christmas tree twinkle off the ornaments. He’s got his little girl smiling and hugging the most important people in their lives. He’s got the twins, so close to coming out to meet everyone. And he’s got Steve, beautiful, perfect, sweet Steve, who is the best parent and co-parent Billy could ever want, the best partner Billy could ever dream of. It feels surreal, everything coming together like this.

It’s everything Billy has ever wanted, and it’s finally his.

~*~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **The Official Playlist** : [here](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0Y7piXVJhD9DV7yx3PXBc0?si=U5vs_OAZSryXNlAFrrU_DQ).  
>  **The Moodboard** : [here](https://lostnoise.tumblr.com/post/617053184953925632/).
> 
> _And some extra headcanon..._
> 
> I left it kind of vague at the end to focus on the important parts, but some of the fun stuff is heavily implied. Dustin and Max end up together, which is why he'd just gotten off the phone about her leaving with Mike and El, who are also together. Lucas and Will live together (and are together, because they're my secret ship and I love them) in New York and are moving after they graduate college in the upcoming spring semester. Robin finds a beautiful punk feminist to fall in love with. Everyone in their little group ends up in California in or around Los Angeles which just makes me super happy that the found family finds a way to stay together. God, I love them all. Obviously not everything is all sunshine and rainbows but I'll leave the extra headcanon there!
> 
> Anyway, feel free to hit me up on [tumblr](http://lostnoise.tumblr.com/)! Thank you for reading!


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